You and I will Fall in Love
by Shatterdoll
Summary: Much to America's horror, Russia decides that the two of them are going to fall in love. And the more he fights it the stronger Russia's determination is to woo him, even if it means taking drastic measures... RussiaxAmerica, M for future chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Hello again! So, welcome to my first (and perhaps last) 'fluff' RussiaxAmerica fic. I don't know where the idea came from but... Hm. I can't quite take it seriously but it's very fun to write. The rating is M but it will just be 16+ for the most part. It won't deserve its M rating until waaay down the line. This will in no way interfere with my update schedule for God Save America!

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia or Big Macs now or ever.

**EDIT: **So, I am going to be editing and resubmitting the chapters. All of the content will be the same. I am simply fixing the constant change in tense which I have come to realize I was horrific at and I am very embarrassed about it. I will also fix minor errors in grammar etc. and am changing Russia's dialogue more to how I write it now (i.e. his saying 'Do not' instead of 'Don't') I might try for a chapter a day but we'll see about that. That's all!

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America stares at the other countries mingling with one another. Watching and observing the others isn't usually something he does but he is particularly bored. One can always see the dynamics of the world at a glance just by coming to these World Conference meetings. Who is getting along, who throws death glares across the room, who is hiding bandages under their suits, or display suspicious behavior, afraid they might be confronted for something they shouldn't be up to. Country watching. It relieves America's boredom anyway. He takes another bite of his Big Mac and washes it down with a gulp of cola. There is almost thirty minutes before it even begins. At least he doesn't have to talk at the beginning this year. He is exhausted from everything on his plate lately. And he has a distinct feeling that no one will like his new plan for renewable energy. He thinks it is badass and way cool but no one ever likes his ideas. Their thinking is just too boring. His musing is interrupted by a shadow falling over him. His eyes slowly travel up an off-white coat, a scarf, a deceitfully childish smile, a large nose, finally meeting violet eyes.

It is the ever-precarious Russia. "Hello America. May I speak to you in private before the conference gets started?"

America takes a long sip of his soda, contemplating the request. On one hand he can't begin to imagine what Russia has to say to him that isn't a threat of some kind. After all, they haven't been on very good terms for a while, even now their relationship strained. On the other it will give him something to do. He looks over and sees that England is still looking over his papers. He is the first to talk and has threatened America with death if he bothers him. Japan seems occupied, however reluctantly, with China and Korea. As for Canada, he can't find him. Never can. He swears the guy is invisible. The straw makes a grating sucking noise as America finishes off the soda.

"...Alright then."

Russia beams silently and America stands, tossing his cup in a garbage can and taking another bite of his burger.

Russia leads him out of the room and into the hush of a side hall. He looks around, checking for people. When he confirms that they are alone he turns to America, who is a touch curious despite himself.

"Well, what did you want to say?"

Russia tilts his head slightly and, clasping his hands behind his back, leans down until his face is hovering right in front of America's. "You and I are going to fall in love."

America chokes on the last of his burger, swallowing hard. He coughs violently, wishing he had some soda left to help wash down the burger. When he can finally breathe there is only one word that seems appropriate for the situation. "Wh-what?!"

Russia continues to smile. "You are going to fall in love with me."

America stares at him in horror. Is this supposed to be some kind of joke? Some very poorly constructed joke? Well he doesn't think it is very funny. "...You say the weirdest things Russia. If you just brought me out here to fuck with me I'm not interested." He moves to walk away when Russia's hand slams against the wall in front of him. America slowly turns back to face Russia who suddenly seems even more menacing than usual.

"I am being serious America. It is my intent that we become lovers."

America flushes, staring at Russia as if he's some alien creature. Hell, even aliens are more welcome than this. "...This joke is going a bit far."

Russia sighs and grabs America's chin, tilting his face up. "It is not a joke. I do not do jokes."

America can believe that. Still, there is no way Russia is standing in front of him seriously telling him that the two of them should, no, will become lovers. It is impossible, implausible, other words that started with 'im'. There is no way! It is-

Russia leans in and kisses him lightly on the lips. Eyes going wide, America rears back, hitting his head hard against the wall. "Shit!"

He reaches back and rubs the aching spot on the back of his skull as Russia laughs. "Careful America, you do not want to hurt yourself."

America wipes his mouth. "What did you do that for?! You're seriously freaking me out Russia!"

Russia taps his nose playfully. "I am sorry. That was not my intent at all. I am just trying to be very frank with you as I know you are kind of an idiot and do not understand subtlety."

America prickles angrily. "Excuse me? I am not an idiot! My brain just works in ways that most of you couldn't hope to comprehend!"

Russia chuckles. "You're amusing too. It is one of the reasons I finally decided to pick you."

America squeezes closer to the wall, wondering what his chances of ducking past the clearly mentally unstable Russia to freedom are. As if reading his mind, or more likely his movements, Russia presses in closer, blocking the other side of America as well. "Well America? Will you become my lover? Here's a hint: This isn't actually a yes or no question."

America, despite being completely pinned to the wall by Russia's presence at this point, has no intention of being intimidated into a relationship. "Hell no!"

Much to America's despair the smile doesn't even budge. "See, you are stupid America. Perhaps I just should have told you to say 'yes.' I don't know if you realize this but you are really hurting my feelings."

America doubts he actually has feelings to hurt. "Perhaps you didn't hear me. Hell no!"

Russia suddenly grabs America, crushing him in a bear hug. His mouth hovers over America's ear. "I do not think you have quite gotten it through your thick skull. One way or the other we are going to be lovers. This can be settled quietly now, which would really be in both of our best interests. But I can play this the hard way. What shall it be?"

America struggles in his grip. "Let go of me! There's no way I would ever be your lover!"

Russia nuzzles his neck, leaving a single kiss before releasing him. "Very well. Just remember you are the one who chose this."

America puts a hand to his neck and takes rapid steps backwards, expecting the Russian to attack him again. Russia, however, simply smiles as he watches him get further and further away. America finally turns and sprints down the rest of the hallway. He bursts into the main room, panting. A few of the others turn to look but on seeing it is just America, roll their eyes and look away again. America glances around desperately for someone to talk to about what has just happened. England is nowhere in sight, Japan is still surrounded, where is Canada damn it? Hell, at this point he might settle for France.

Switzerland's voice cuts through the general chatter of the room. "Everyone start filing in! We want to get started on time!"

America watches stupidly as the other countries begin to file into the conference room. Their faces seem to be a bit of a blur to him. Why can't he find anyone he's close to? A hand clamps down on his shoulder, making him jump.

Russia leans down. "Better get in there America. You would not want to hold everyone up would you?"

America hastily pulls away from Russia. "Don't touch me!"

Russia walks past America without another word. America watches him then rubs the back of his head again, which still stings. How can he act so casually? Is it really just some weird joke? Is it to freak him out? Well it isn't going to work. America takes a deep breath to calm himself.

Switzerland yells over at him. "Hey! Get moving idiot! No one wants to wait for you!"

America grumbles and makes his way into the room. He takes a seat between Sweden and Greece, relieved that Russia isn't anywhere near him or even in his line of sight. England stands at the front of the room in front of a power point. America can already feel his eyelids growing heavy. It is hard enough to concentrate when he is the one talking let alone boring old England. As if to prove this point, England launches into one of the most boring presentations America has ever had to listen to. It's not long before he's nodding off.

At one point England throws a pen at America, hitting him squarely on the forehead, yelling at him to pay attention. America is able to stay awake for ten minutes before his eyes start to droop again. Time seems to crawl. The words are enough to bring him out of a light doze when England finally announces the long awaited lunch break. He tries to cover his yawn as he blinks his way into wakefulness.

Some of the other countries have begun to stand when Russia's voice rings out across the room. "Excuse me, I hate to interrupt but before we go on break I would like to make an important announcement. America and I are lovers."

This comment jolts America into a state of complete wakefulness and his face flushes bright red. There is a pause of total silence and then the room erupts.

"What, the two of them are lovers? That's a joke isn't it?"

"I always thought there was something going on between those two."

"Surely that can't be right?"

"Did you see America blush? I bet it was supposed to be a secret."

America stands and points an accusing finger at Russia. "That's a lie! That's a filthy lie! You communist liar bastard! Don't believe his filth!"

But the whispers aren't stopping. Everywhere America looks there are doubtful or amused looks. Surely they believe him don't they? America looks to England who stares at him, mouth agape. Surely he doesn't believe Russia.

America grinds his teeth. "Errr it's a lie I say! Damn it!"

He violently pushes past Greece and flees the room, humiliated beyond reason. Meanwhile Russia simply smiles on. His words have created the perfect effect. Even if America doesn't consider himself Russia's lover quite yet, as far as the rest of the world is concerned he is and that is a step in the right direction.

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**AN:** So...With World Conferences I wasn't sure if the U.S. usually speaks/hosts but... whatever. I really am not sure how they work and didn't feel like researching them that in-depth. Sorry for inaccuracies.


	2. Chapter 2

Hello~ So all I can say is...wow! I really didn't expect the enthusiasm I got for the last chapter. Here I was worried if people would even like my silly little idea. I feel very humbled, thank you! I hope this continues to live up to your expectations.

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Switzerland rants angrily to anyone who will listen. Never has someone so thoroughly derailed a world meeting. Oh sure, it happened right before a break but just try to get anyone to pay attention after it starts again. Little circles of gossip have sprung up all around the room. This is the most scandalous thing that has happened during a World Conference in ages.

Romano laughs loudly in one such circle. "That was hilarious! Did you see America's face? Priceless! Well I think the two deserve each other."

Italy looks thoughtful, which is rare for him. Spain also seems to have something on his mind. Romano looks between the two of them. "Well, don't you have something to say? This is hilarious right?"

Germany opens his mouth and Romano cuts him off. "No one asked you!"

Italy presses his index fingers together. "Actually...it's kind of strange because not too long ago Russia actually came to visit me."

Everyone stares at him. Germany frowns. "Why?"

Italy tilts his head. "Mmm well, see...He wanted romantic advice."

Spain suddenly breaks in. "You too? He came to talk to me about that as well! I thought it was really odd but figured as long as he wasn't going to try anything on me I didn't really care."

France suddenly pokes his head into their conversation. "Ah, bon? He came and asked me as well! I thought it was rather amusing at the time. In fact I wondered what poor sucker he was going to use it on. But America? I never would have guessed!"

He starts laughing. "Apparently my superb advice bagged him the idiot."

Spain glowers at France. "As if. It was my advice that united the two!"

Italy looks up. "Huh, I wonder if what I said was useful? I am quite romantic."

Romano bursts in angrily. "Wait, why didn't he ask me? I'm part of Italy, I'm super romantic! What the hell!"

Germany simply looks at the floor, remaining a quiet spectator. He supposes it isn't that surprising he hadn't been asked.

Spain glares at France, unmindful of the angry Romano. "Well what did you say to him?"

France tosses his head haughtily. "Obviously that to woo your heart's desire you must do it with fine gifts like wine. Physical displays are important. Determination is key and that even stalking is perfectly acceptable as long as it is in the name of love. Tell them directly what you want. Don't take no for an answer! What about you?"

Spain crosses his arms confidently. "You must show the one you love your passion. Love like a red hot coal! And don't be afraid to declare your love from a rooftop. It will impress your partner that you are unafraid to admit your feelings. Crying is nothing to be ashamed of either. Vulnerability is sexy!"

The two look at Italy. He gives them a dopey smile. "Well, it helps if you get to know intimate things about them. Find things in common to share with your partner. It's the little details that matter when trying to catch someone. Be affectionate and kind. Trying to make them smile will undoubtedly lead to happiness. Eating lots of good food and having lots of good sex is also romantic."

Germany blushes slightly and Romano continues to stew. "I could have said that!"

Spain chuckles. "You're adorable Romano."

Romano punches him. "Shut your stupid face."

France snorts. "Well obviously America would respond best to my advice. One must be direct and physical with such a thick country. Delicate displays of 'affection' are lost on him and crying would simply make you look unmanly in his eyes."

Spain glowers at him. "Obviously he is the kind who appreciates intense shows of passion. Is he not himself a particularly passionate country? Of course he's an idiot and doesn't know how to channel it but how could he deny someone confident and loud like him?"

Italy stares at the air for a long moment. "Well...he does seem to like food at least. But he doesn't have much as far as distinction in taste goes does he... Was my advice totally useless?"

Germany quickly waves his hand. "Of course not! Th-that's excellent love advice!"

Everyone stares at Germany with raised eyebrows and he sinks back, clearly embarrassed. He clears his throat. "Well....I mean i-it seems like it has some merit."

Italy smiles at him. "I'm glad."

Suddenly England looms up from nowhere looking absolutely evil with anger. "So it was you fools who encouraged this nonsense..."

All of them shiver and turn towards England. Romano quickly defends his brother. "Go away moron, Feliciano doesn't know better! He always says stupid things. Feel free to throttle these two though, I'm sure they knew what was going on."

England grabs France and Spain by the backs of their collars and starts to drag them away. "You idiots! I'm going to beat you both within an inch of your lives! Especially you, France!"

France tears desperately at his shirt. "N-No Arthur no!"

Spain reaches out for Romano. "Lovino why are you so cruel? Help me!"

Romano just snorts and turns away. "That's what you fools get."

Italy watches the two of them get dragged away. "Eeeh? Why is England so angry? He's scary!"

Germany and Romano simply sigh. Romano stands. "Well, come along then we might as well get lunch."

Italy claps his hands. "Pasta!"

"That's right. You coming along too you hulking pervert?"

Germany wearily follows after the two Italys supposing he is just lucky he isn't in France's or Spain's shoes.

**~.**

America hangs his head, the sting of embarrassment still strong. How can he face everyone else after the crap Russia just pulled? Well he will have to lay it out that the two of them are most definitely not lovers. America is used to the taunting of the other countries but never for something like this. At least in the past it was always some mistake he had made or something he had said. But this is pure blasphemy! It is going to soil his clean, er... his awesome image!

Suddenly a timid voice speaks next to him. "A-America?"

He looks around, startled. "Who said that?"

After a moment he realizes someone is sitting next to him. "Um...You are.... let's see..."

"I'm Canada..."

America snaps. "Right! That's it. I've been looking for you everywhere Matthew! Where were you?"

Canada sighs. "Oh... around. I, um, heard Russia's big news. I mean, I don't want to presume or anything but I'm guessing that isn't true?"

America violently shakes his head. "Of course it's not true! This is one of the worst things that's ever happened. Do you think this is some weird Cold War strategy that he hasn't tried yet?"

Canada laughs awkwardly. "Well, it doesn't quite seem that extreme. He's probably just trying to publicly humiliate you."

America buries his face in his hands. "Well it's working! What am I supposed to do?"

"Oof!"

Before he can look up at the sound, America is pulled to Canada's chest. He forgets about him a lot, but Canada is really very sweet. He clutches his coat and closes his eyes, just resting his head there for a moment. Canada strokes his hair. It's actually kind of touching that he is comforting him like this. It makes him feel better to know someone is there for him. "Thanks, I appreciate it."

"Well of course. It is only appropriate I comfort my lover when he is feeling down."

America looks up into the face of Russia. "GAH! What the hell?! Where did Matthew go?"

Russia raises an eyebrow. "Who? I did not see anyone."

From beneath Russia comes Canada's meek voice. "M-maple..."

America rips himself from Russia's clutches and stands up. "You're sitting on my brother!"

Russia looks up at him. "Are you certain? I swear I did not see anyone next to you."

Canada waves weakly with one arm. "R-Russia you're crushing meee."

America frantically grabs Russia and starts to pull at his arm. "Get up!"

Russia allows America to help him to his feet then grabs hold of America's waist, pulling him close again. "Did you want to go somewhere? Shall we share lunch?"

America pushes at his chest. "No! In fact I would prefer it if you stayed one hundred feet away from me at all times and did not speak a word about me for the duration of this century!"

Russia ruffles his hair. "Always joking. You are so cute America."

Canada looks like he's passed out on the couch meaning he is no help. (As usual) America will just have to get out of this himself. Well that is just fine, he is used to it.

"Look, I don't know where or why you got it into your head that you and I should be lovers, but it's never going to happen! Not in a million years! Not even if we were the only countries left in the whole world. So stop with this sick game, got it Commie?"

"Now America, while I am fine with you calling me by a pet name I would ask you to use a different one than that. That one is a bit offensive. I know that was a rough patch of history between us but isn't it in the past? If it makes you feel better there are those who claim I never even was Communist. Technically I am Capitalist, just like you."

America snorts. "I prefer the term Democracy, thanks."

Russia giggles. "What a coincidence, I am also technically a Democracy. Birds of a feather, da?"

America glowers up at him. "Let go of me!"

Russia picks him up off the ground, practically crushing his ribs. "I am sorry, did I offend you? I am just trying to prove we are compatible."

America winces. "B-bones....breaking..."

Russia sets America down again, kissing his cheek. "Sorry. I am new at this so it might take some practice."

America grimaces at his kiss. "There will be no practice because this isn't happening!"

Russia pinches the cheek he had just kissed hard. "You keep saying these hurtful things America. I warned you before did I not? I can play this the hard way. The more you resist me the more I will humiliate you. So, you can kiss me right now or I will take more drastic measures."

He finally lets go of America who rubs his cheek. At this rate his whole body is going to hurt by the end of the day. Russia smiles expectantly at him. "As if I'd kiss you."

He turns huffily to leave. His heart jumps into his throat as he hears Russia's footsteps mirror his own. His whole body becomes extra sensitive, expecting a large hand to suddenly grab him again. With clumsy haste he grabs the door handle and yanks it open. Just as the door swings forward the back of his knees are kicked, causing him to collapse backwards. He lets out a strangled cry at the unexpected action. The next thing he knows he is looking at the ceiling, into Russia's smiling face, for a moment. The next second there is a hand on his back, an arm hooked under his legs. With a final yank that makes America dizzy he is in Russia's arms and carried through the door like a blushing bride over the threshold. America stares at Russia in shock.

Russia smiles kindly down at him. "I am glad you have finally dried your tears darling. It is good we could work through this, and I apologize one last time for my public announcement. I simply could not contain myself any longer."

America is wondering what the fuck Russia is talking about when he suddenly looks into the room and realizes it is filled with other countries who are all staring at the two. He goes beet red from the base of his neck to the tips of his ears. "I-it isn't what it looks like! H-he's tricking you! Put me down at once!"

Russia obliges, being mockingly gentle about the whole process.

America takes large, stumbling steps away from Russia. He stares from Russia to the others, to Russia then back. "It's a trick I say! This isn't....it isn't...I hate you Russia!" Once more America flees his humiliation.

Russia laughs indulgently. "He is so temperamental. You really would not expect him to be so shy, would you?"

More whispering erupts between the countries and Russia's smile looks suspiciously close to a smirk. He hadn't expected America to be an easy prize, but this is turning out to be much more fun than he had actually thought it would be. Russia will catch America yet. After all, he has advice from some of the best sources available: three of the most romantic countries in the world and the Internet. There is no way he can fail in his conquest.

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Translation: Ah, bon: Oh, really (Someone helped me correct the French, thanks!)

**AN: **Okay, who else finds the idea of Russia pulling out a little notebook filled with conflicting romantic advice utterly adorable? -laughs-

Despite how it might look up towards the beginning of the chapter and the fact that England and Russia fighting over a reluctant America is my ultimate OT3 I'm giving that dynamic a rest in this story. I am also completely convinced that while the other countries simply forget about Canada, Russia willfully ignores him. (And no offense meant to Canada haha)


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Back to the Future

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America sits in the supply closet, engulfed in silence and darkness. He is trying to wish his way into the past so he can violently reject Russia's offer to talk before the conference. Everything could have been avoided if he had just said no. Why did he say yes? Is boredom truly such a devil that it has lead to this series of tragic events?

He kicks the wall. "Damn it!"

The door suddenly opens, blinding his eyes for a moment. "Hey!"

"So here you are. What do you think you're doing in here you stupid wanker? Get out!"

America blinks and looks up into the irritated face of England. Pouting, America presses against the wall and pushes up, knocking over two brooms before exiting the closet. England rubs the bridge of his nose. "What Russia said, is it-"

"No it is not!" America clenches his teeth for a moment. "Damn it England, I thought at least you would know I would never hook up with Russia! How could you believe that even for a second?"

England sighs. "Well...I mean, I didn't think you were actually... It's just it came out of nowhere. I was really surprised. How long has he been harassing you?"

America crosses his arms. "Since right before the conference began. He said he wanted to talk to me and I was bored so I go with him right? And next thing I know he's saying 'We're going to fall in love' and 'if you don't say you'll be my lover I'll humiliate you in front of the god damn world!' Ugh! I can't even believe this!"

England is a bit relieved. He hadn't thought it was serious after hearing France and Spain's confessions of stupidity but one can never be sure. The idea of America with Russia is a definite cause for concern. He can't help but worry about his former colony. "I have no idea what is going on with Russia but I think it was encouraged by France and Spain, those morons. Sounded like some kind of bet or something from what I caught of it. While I must say I highly disapprove of his actions I think this is nothing more than a very inappropriate joke on you."

America's stance relaxes, some of the anxiety draining. "You think? I mean...He seems pretty serious about it."

England shrugs. "Come on, it's Russia. The two of you have been at each other's throats for ages. Why would he suddenly decide to be your lover? I'll have a few of the other countries join me in taking Russia aside after the conference and discussing his behavior. I know Switzerland is beyond pissed about it."

America nods. Of course this has to be some sick plot, or game, or joke that had gone too far. Like England said, there's no way Russia would seriously want to be his lover. He feels a lot better and for once is grateful for England's cool headed analysis of the situation.

England pats his arm. "Alright then, it's almost time to reconvene. Go ahead and talk like you're supposed to. Just ignore anyone who looks like they're talking about the incident. Get through this and we'll clear it up once everything is said and done."

America gives him a thumbs up. "Okay! I can do that."

England shakes his head and starts pushing America forward. "Come on, get a move on it."

As England brings America back, most of the others have already started to file into the conference room, though the chatter suggests doubt on how things will proceed after the shocking outburst.

England scans the remaining stragglers for Russia. He doesn't see him. "Right, well I'm going in there. Just keep your head. You'll do fine."

America smiles. "Right. Thanks. And I'm sure I can't be more boring than you."

England scowls and punches his arm before stalking off towards the room. America sighs and starts to walk slowly. Despite what England said he is still feeling rather anxious about getting in front of everyone. There is suddenly a hand on his shoulder. Without a second thought America turns and elbows the one who touched him right in the gut as hard as he can. No doubt it is that big, creepy- Oh shit it is Switzerland.

Switzerland holds his stomach and punches America. "Moron! What the hell are you doing assaulting people! Look, I just want to tell you right now, I have no idea what's going on but that you better not cause any more problems or I will hurt you."

America tries to protest. "But it was Russia-"

Switzerland cuts him off. "I don't care, it involved you! Just give your usual idiotic speech and do not cause problems!"

He jabs a warning finger in America's face then walks off with a huff. America sighs and rubs his eyes. Adjusting Texas, America walks towards the conference room. There is nothing left but to try and get through this thing as soon as possible.

As America enters the room there is an odd wave of suppressed whispers. Trying his best to ignore it, America makes his way to the front of the room. For a moment he looks towards the sea of countries sitting in front of him then quickly averts his gaze, not wanting to catch the eye of someone who didn't believe him or even worse, Russia. Instead he focuses on the lazily constructed Power Point that has started up behind him.

Once his back is turned the voices seem to get louder. There are a few futile 'Shush!' sounds but still the voices persist. A hero shouldn't have to deal with this sort of thing. What has he done to deserve this? Nothing! He had been minding his own business, and now... Why are they still talking about it?

America finally turns away from the Power Point and looks around him, pulling at his collar. It seems unbearably hot. Why is everyone whispering? Damn it, it is too hot... He is too awesome to be affected by this kind of gossip but America suddenly feels claustrophobic. Too many eyes on him. Usually he loves being the center of attention but now it is driving him crazy. "Uhhh I'm here to talk about the energy crises. I...I think that...That... To solve the energy crises we should...Recycling and...and renewable...renewable energy... um..." Damn, his mind is a total blank. Something about turning garbage into fuel like in Back to the Future...

His eyes scan the crowd, looking for England or Canada for stability. Instead they lock on bright, violet eyes that shine with mirth. Mocking him. Trying to draw him in.

America slams his hands down on the table. "Russia is not my lover!"

He sweeps an arm over the table, papers and folders flying everywhere. The room breaks into chaos. Chattering voices drowned out any attempt at sanity. Switzerland valiantly tries to outshout the crowd. "He's hysterical, someone stop him! Punch him or something!"

Meanwhile America chants his mantra, hands slamming down again and again on the table. "He's not! He's not! He's-!"

Suddenly someone grabs America's arm and his wrists are seized. Russia. It is Russia. It is his fault that-

Russia crushes his lips against America's. For a second America is completely numb. No command is sent to his limbs to break away. No thought in his head to be disgusted. Pure, blissful numbness.

And then he is aware of the sound of his blood crashing in his own ears, of the unusual hush of the room, and then aware of a bright flash that comes again and again. Picture. Camera. Russia. Bad... Bad. Bad! This is bad! Someone is photographing this! Finally thought and action are restored to America. He violently pulls one hand free from Russia's grip, wiping his mouth.

The look on Russia's face belies the true darkness beneath the surface of that childish expression. "Do you feel calm now?"

America turns to the room. Some of the countries like Romano are laughing and jeering. Germany is covering Italy's eyes and some of the other countries look away. A very bruised France and Spain are arguing about something. Japan is...Japan is the one with the camera. He had taken the pictures. America has to get to him. Why can't he move? Suddenly he realizes that Russia is still holding on to one of his wrists. He glares up at him. "Let go!"

Russia presses his forehead against America's. "Don't want to."

More flashes. America pulls his head away. "Let go damn it!"

Now England is striding over, face set in fury. "Out, now! Both of you out!"

He violently escorts the two countries out of the room, leaving the chaos for a much calmer atmosphere outside. America finds he can suddenly breathe easier. "England, did you see how he-!"

"Shut up you damned bloody fool! What were you thinking, acting so hysterically? Moron, now we'll never get everyone calmed down! Maybe if you had half a brain- Hell, a quarter of a brain would do you worlds of good!" He turns his sharp anger on Russia. "As for you, what do you think you're doing? Are you trying to get attention or something? You have no right to harass America for your own amusement!"

Russia gives England a decidedly cool look. "I have no idea what you are talking about England. I was simply trying to calm him down and I felt my method was much more effective than Switzerland's."

America scowls at him. "I am not putting up with this! I'm leaving!"

England looks utterly taken aback. "You can't... You can't just leave! We're in the middle of a World Conference!"

America raises an eyebrow. "Oh no? Watch me."

With that he shoots Russia one last glare and turns on his heel.

"A-America get back here! America! Alfred!"

England moves to go after him when Russia grabs him. "Why do you insist on trying to control every aspect of his life? If he wants to leave let him. After all, it works to my purposes so much better if he does."

England's eyes narrow. "And what is that supposed to mean? Look, I don't know what you're up to, or if someone put you up to this, but you leave America alone."

Russia gives off a dark aura. "Do not tell me what to do England. And do not try to interfere. It is none of your business."

England swells with anger. "Like hell it isn't! America is my little brother! I have every right to be concerned with his business! Who do you think you are telling me not to interfere?"

Russia finally lets England go. "I am his lover. Or I will be. And I am dead serious about that."

England opens his mouth, speechless with confusion and anger. Russia smiles and walks back towards the conference room.

"S-stop! Russia get back here and explain yourself!"

But Russia determinedly ignores him, slamming the conference room door behind him. Things are going quite smoothly really. He hadn't expected America to agree to be his lover immediately and had decided in advance that some ego crushing blows would help make the younger nation more vulnerable. There is one more thing that, while he hadn't expected it or thought of it, will be the perfect finishing touch. All he has to do is get that film...

~.

Japan strokes the top of his camera. He had gotten some excellent shots. He can't wait to get them developed.

Nearby Romano talks loudly. "I still think it's hilarious."

His brother looks concerned. "Ve? But why? Isn't Russia just trying to show America how he feels? Isn't it hurtful that America is denying it so strongly? I feel bad for Russia..."

Romano waves his hand. "Oh come on Feliciano. It's no big deal. The idiots deserve each other."

To Japan's right China, who has been fairly quiet up to this point, finally interjects. "Well I'm glad you think it's so amusing. Personally I don't think it is. You are all laughing but have any of you considered what it would mean if the two of them really are lovers? They would become a truly terrifying force to reckon with. And their alliance would really put a damper on my attempts to become the top power. What a pain..."

As this sinks in, a much more sober mood overtakes the surrounding countries. Suddenly it doesn't seem funny that Russia has announced that he and America are lovers. It no longer seems very funny at all...


	4. Chapter 4

I love this chapter. You have no idea how much I love it. Why? Prussia. I love Prussia. I am pleased to finally have his awesome grace one of my stories -laughs-

* * *

America sprawls across his bed, furiously eating popcorn and only half-paying attention to some action movie. The back of his head throbs not to mention his stress headache, the back of one of his knees still twinges, and his ribs feel bruised. What a terrible day. Not to mention the emotional scarring. He pulls a pillow close and buries his face in it, eyes closing slowly. After leaving the World Conference America had gotten home late and immediately cracked open a beer and drowned himself with the soothing, brainless flickering lights of the television while trying to forget how utterly miserable today has been. He sighs softly and rubs his face against the pillow. Well fuck this, he is going to sleep. Maybe at least in dreams he can forget the agony he suffered at Russia's hands. He snuggles into his bed, tugging his blankets over his head. Who knows? By tomorrow everything will probably have blown over and he will never have to think about it ever again...

America falls into the last peaceful sleep he will have for a long time.

~.

America is vaguely aware of the national anthem playing. He rubs his eyes then blinks, confused. "Hnn?"

The music stops then after a second begins again. America sits up and then it clicks. His cell phone. He scrambles to his knees and hastily looks for his cell phone. After fumbling for a minute he finally finds it, squinting to try and read the name. It simply says 'Boss.' America quickly flips the phone open. "Mmm, hello? Sorry, I was asleep."

There is a long pause.

"...Hello? What do you need? Something wrong?"

There is a heavy sigh. "America, what did you do?"

America blinks. "Eh? What do you mean? I haven't done anything."

Another heavy sigh. "Go to your fax machine. I'll send you something very interesting that was sent out early this morning."

Confused, America goes to his fax and waits, looking for Texas until a paper finally comes through. Groggy, America looks at the picture. And stares.

"Did you get it yet?"

America opens his mouth and lets out a little squeak.

"So did half the world. Damn it America, what is this? Not only did you apparently skip out on the World Conference right when it was your turn to talk, _after_ creating a huge scene no less, but now this? Did you know that the phones have been ringing off the hook all morning? There's media, other world leaders, and that's only the beginning. This is out of control! People are either trying to get a scoop or are demanding to know when we entered a secret alliance with Russia. How could you let this happen?"

America continues to stare at the explicitly clear photo of Russia kissing him at the world meeting. God, why is he making such a slutty face? What is this? It doesn't help that Russia looks incredibly dominant over him. He couldn't have looked more like Russia's hysterical lover if he tried.

"Well? Don't you have anything to say? This is a disaster!"

America finally finds his voice. "Shit, I forgot to get the god damned camera from Japan! How did he get it? I...I forgot he...I was so upset... He was harassing me! I mean you have no idea! I had nothing to do with this!"

"It doesn't very well matter anymore, because that's not what it looks like does it? You have to fix this. _Now_."

America gulps. "R-right. I-I'll find a way to take care of this. Trust me. Shit..."

There's another heavy sigh. "Make sure that you do. Just remember the longer you take the more trouble it is for the rest of us."

His boss hangs up and America presses the end button. That's when he notices he has missed calls. Half-numb with shock, he goes to missed calls and sees that he had slept through probably two dozen phone calls this morning. Some of them are people he knows, Canada, England, France, Spain for some reason...There are also numbers he does not recognize. And he has voice mails...But somehow he has the feeling he doesn't particularly want to listen to them.

Russia...Fucking Russia! America tosses his phone onto the desk for the time being and rips the picture to shreds. If yesterday hadn't been humiliating enough now there is photographic evidence that has been spread across the globe that can be kept and replicated for ages to come.

He rubs his temples. "Shit!"

Never in his entire life has America wanted to just sink into a crack and disappear for a century or so. There is only one thing to be done. He eyes his cell phone before picking it up reluctantly. He looks through his contacts. Does he even have Russia's number? He's not sure, he has a tendency to delete it whenever the other country ticks him off. Which is a lot. He finally finds it under Red. With great reluctance he hits send.

~.

Russia hums to himself, slouched over as he reads a 'Top Ten Ways to Please Your Lover' article on his computer. Personally he can think of ten much more interesting ways to please a lover. For both parties involved. His phone begins to ring and he pulls it out. He has been filtering calls ever since he sent out that lovely little picture that he currently has propped up on his desk. It is the best of the group, though Japan certainly has a flare for photography. Other than his irate boss he hasn't been interested in talking to anyone who calls. He can't turn off his phone though because he knows it is only a matter of time before... Ah, and here it is. A call from America. His lips curl into a sly grin.

"Привет America, I have been expecting your call."

America almost sounds as angry as his boss had been. "What did you do you son of a bitch?"

Russia sits back in his chair. "In reference to what?"

"Don't play coy! I mean that picture you sent out!"

Russia decides he adores how America sounds when he's angry. Perhaps that is something he has always liked. "Ah, that picture. It is wonderful, da? Your face is absolutely erotic. It makes me want to see you terribly."

America makes a strangled sound across the line and Russia chuckles silently. "Fuck off! This is serious! Something has to be done about this and because it's your fault I expect you to fix it!"

Russia yawns. "I do not see why I should have to do anything."

"Don't give me that crap!"

Russia looks at the picture on his desk. "I will tell you what, I will agree to discuss what actions you want to take if..." he pauses to emphasis this word. "If you agree to talk about it in person."

There is a long pause from the other side and Russia wishes he could see what the other country is doing, the expression on his face.

"Fine," is the short, icy response.

"Great! Where do you want to meet? I think it best we discreetly meet in a different country. Otherwise we will draw too much attention to ourselves."

There's a slight pause. "England's house."

"No. I do not like him. Somewhere else."

America lets out a frustrated sigh. "I have no idea, where do you want to go?"

Russia thinks about it. "Mm, Germany's house. Let us have it there. He is likely to allow us to have talks at his house and he will keep it quiet. He is not the kind to nose in other people's business."

"...Alright, I could do that."

Russia beams. "Then I will get in contact with him and plan everything. You do not have to worry about one little thing. I will get in contact with you soon and give you the details. I cannot wait to see you again."

There's a pause and then the line goes dead. Russia laughs. Prideful, difficult America... He is so much fun to play with.

Russia dials Germany's number as he clicks out of the browser window, looking at a much more interesting article underneath on some truly intriguing things to try in the bedroom.

"...Hallo? Is this Russia?"

Russia's smile brightens. "Da! Greetings Germany, I have a bit of a favor."

Germany lets out a small sigh. "What kind of favor?"

~.

A little over twelve hours after contacting Russia, America steps out of an unmarked vehicle in front of Germany's house. He adjusts his sunglasses and hurries towards the front door. He doubts anyone will spot him at this point but he certainly had a close call at the private airport. After looking around he finally knocks on the door, impatient for Germany to answer.

After what feels like forever the door finally creaks open. Germany stands in the doorway looking tense. "America...I'm glad you're the first to arrive. Come in."

America hurries inside. "Thanks. Did you get...that..."

Germany coughs. It's all the answer America needs. "Fuuuuck."

Germany looks at America uncertainly, not sure if he should try to comfort the obviously distressed country and if so, how.

America pulls off the sunglasses and puts them in his pocket. "So...what happened at the meeting after I left?"

Germany decides to avoid any shows of sympathy out of pure awkwardness. "Russia returned long enough to snatch Japan's camera then left. There was a lot of speculation over where you had gone and...if Russia had left with you. England violently denied that the two of you left together but some of the others thought he was just trying to cover for you. Things pretty much fell apart after that. A couple countries came together and tried to salvage things. We ended up disassembling early. Then a while later a lot of us received...Well."

America rubs the bridge of his nose. "If I had known what this would turn into I never would have left! This is a disaster."

Germany looks at America out of the corner of his eye. He wants to ask if he and Russia are actually involved but that isn't really any of his business. He can only hope that if something is going on that cooperating now will be to his advantage later. Suddenly a sharp voice cuts in, much to Germany's distress.

"Is he here? He's here right? America? HAHA!"

Prussia jumps over the banister of the stairs, grinning like a lune. Germany frowns. "...America you might remember Prussia."

Prussia throws his arm around Germany's waist, leaning against him. "Ja, long time no see America."

The two size one another up. Finally America replies with an offhand, "Hey."

Germany gently tries to pry Prussia off him who just holds on tighter. He gives up. "Well if you follow me I'll show you where you and Russia will be talking."

Germany leads America through the house with Prussia attached to him. America immediately notices Prussia leering at him and glowers in his direction. If there is one thing he knows about Prussia, it is that he is an egotistical asshole.

Germany walks into an enclosed room without windows. "This should provide the two of you with privacy while you work out...Whatever it is you need to work out."

America nods and looks around the small room. "Thanks."

Germany looks uncomfortable. "Is there anything else? Something I can get you while you wait?"

America shrugs. "Nah, I'll be fine. Unless you have something that allows you to time travel."

Prussia laughs loudly and Germany shakes his head, taking the question seriously.

"Bruder, why don't you get him some beer at least?"

Germany frowns. "I don't think that's a good idea considering the reason he's here."

Prussia's eyes shine. "And why exactly are you here little America?"

America glares at him. "To straighten some things out. Other than that it's none of your business."

Germany puts an arm around Prussia's shoulder. "Come on Prussia, it's time for you to go."

"Sure, sure West." Prussia smirks at America. "Auf Wiedersehen."

Prussia walks out of the room and Germany rubs his face. "My apologies. My brother is a bit... Well he's Prussia. If there is anything you need from me you may come find me. Do you mind waiting by yourself?" America shakes his head. "Right...I'll escort Russia here once he arrives."

Germany closes the door softly behind him and America is left on his own. The room is eerily silent. He can hear a clock ticking up on a shelf. He lets his eyes wander until he finds it nestled between two large books. Sitting on the drab gray couch that takes up quite a bit of the room, he sighs and closes his eyes, leaning his head back.

During the nearly ten hour trip it took to get to Germany, America had been preparing a rant to unleash on Russia the second he sees his stupid Russian face. However, ten hours is a very, very long time. While he is still pissed beyond reason it has started to occur to him that if he comes in spitting and screaming Russia will probably just laugh in his face and consider himself victorious. So instead he started to consider asking calmly but firmly that Russia make a public broadcast explaining that he and America are _not_ in fact lovers and never have been. Needless to say he'll be so taken by surprise he will have no choice but to do as America asks. Awesome!

"Bier?"

America jumps and his eyes fly open. "H-huh?"

"Bier?" Prussia stands over him, smirking. He holds out a can of beer. "I think Germany is being too proper. Actually the bastard probably just wants it for himself."

Prussia laughs loudly and sits next to America, pressing the beer into his hands. America finally takes it and opens it. Well as long as he has it why not? He takes a long drink. "Hah, that really hits the spot."

Prussia grins. "I bet." He snatches the can from America and takes a swig himself. "Better than your swill, ja?"

America scowls. "My beer is not swill! It's perfectly fine."

Prussia snorts and takes another swig. "German beer is as awesome as I am. And that is very awesome."

America snatches the beer can and finishes it off. "And yet it does not compare to how awesome I am."

He tosses the empty can to Prussia, who looks infinitely pleased at having found a worthy adversary. "Is that so? Prove it."

America raises an eyebrow. "I'm an actual country, not a providence."

Prussia sneers. "At least I would never be caught making a face like this."

He pulls out a piece of paper from his back pocket and unfolds it, revealing the picture of Russia kissing America. America hastily snatches it from his hands and crumples it.

Prussia laughs. "Aw, poor little America. Embarrassed? Well feel free to do as you wish to that. I have more than enough copies of it. I can spare a few."

America flushes. "Why?"

Prussia winks and reaches over, tilting up America's face. "It's your face. I can't get over how much you look like a little slut. Mein Gott it's sexy. I wonder, my name is pretty close to that bastard's. Would you make that face for me America?"

Prussia cackles as America begins to boil with rage. "Fuck off!"

Prussia leans in, putting his arms around America. "I heard the word fuck! Is that an invitation?"

"Of course it isn't! Get off!"

Prussia pulls America closer. "Not until I see if I can coax that face out of you..."

Just as Prussia begins to lean in and America is about to punch him, a sound comes from behind that makes them both freeze. "Kolkolkol!"

Prussia is suddenly ripped from America, a startled look on his face. Russia holds him up so they are face to face. "Do not touch my lover. Ever. Next time you do I will rip out your spinal column."

Prussia gulps hard, rendered a deer in the headlights by the expression on Russia's face.

Germany speaks from behind Russia. "Let him go! Please, he's just an idiot!"

It is another long, uncomfortable moment before Russia finally releases Prussia. Trying to save face Prussia straightens his clothing, almost hiding the trembling of his hands, before walking over to Germany and putting an arm around his shoulders. "I wasn't actually going to do anything, I was just teasing. Come on West, the lovers have sweet nothings to whisper to one another."

Germany frowns at his irresponsible brother. "Well...I'll leave you two alone as long as is necessary. Don't hesitate to ask if you need anything."

Russia stares coldly at Prussia, who avoids his gaze. "Thank you Germany. You may leave now."

Germany nods once and leads his brother away. Russia turns to the disheveled America and suddenly throws himself at him. America yells in surprise as Russia hugs him to his chest. "My poor America! It must have been terrible, being molested by a pervert."

America pushes at Russia. "I'm being molested just as much by you!"

Russia pulls away. "How cold. Comparing the actions of that moron to the loving caresses of the one you love..."

America lets out a frustrated cry. "We are not lovers! In fact, that's why the two of us are here!"

Russia finally pulls away. "I thought we were here because of that picture I sent out. I think you look absolutely precious."

America glowers at Russia. "You asshole! My boss is really unhappy about this! It's making other countries panic. We've been getting calls from abroad all day thanks to you! People are afraid we're going to join forces with Russia and destroy the world. You have to make a world wide broadcast revoking your words and actions!"

There. He said it. Unfortunately not nearly as eloquently as he hoped due to that stupid Prussia.

Russia puts on a look of mock thoughtfulness. "Hmm my boss is really angry too. He was actually pretty disgusted with my display. I think I can get him to see things my way given a little persuasion. After all, he might be my boss but I have been around far longer than him. If I say America is my lover then America will be my lover."

The look Russia gives America sends a clear, unspoken message: These words are not just meant for my boss, but you as well.

America swallows hard. "Look, all you have to do is take it all back and neither of us will have problems. Oh there will be some gossip here and there but it will clear up soon. So what do you say?"

Russia leers at him much as Prussia had. "I say that I want you to say you love me."

America flushes angrily. "Well sucks for you, I will do no such thing!"

Russia sighs in mock sorrow. "Why do you continue to do this to yourself America? Tell your boss this: I have absolutely zero interest in America. The only thing I am interested in is Alfred. That is what I want. In fact, from now on I am going to call you Alfred. You may call me Ivan. Tell him I do not want or intend to mix politics. We will not rule or destroy the world...Not anytime soon anyway. All we are going to do is fall in love."

Russia smiles at the cold glare America gives him. "There, is that all settled?"

"No it isn't settled! You've lied to the entire world! We aren't lovers! We aren't in love! Why are you doing this to me?"

Russia's expression becomes very closed. Finally he leans in until his lips brush against America's. "Then let us become lovers and let us fall in love. Then it will no longer be a lie."

With that he pushes America down onto the couch, pinning him. "Say you will and your punishment will end."

America practically snarls at him. "Never!"

Russia clicks his tongue, eyes glittering with excitement. "Then I am afraid, Alfred, that this is only the beginning."

* * *

Translations:

Привет-Hello

Auf Wiedersehen-Goodbye


	5. Chapter 5

Hello! So I really want to thank everyone for all the reviews and favorites and stuff. I really appreciate it and you're all awesome!

* * *

America tries to push Russia off of him but Russia simply captures his hands, sliding them above his head. "Perhaps you should consider the consequences of your decisions before you make them, not after."

He chuckles as America struggles beneath him. "Wh-what are you going to do to me?"

Russia laughs harder then licks his lips. "What won't I do to you?"

America feels panic bubbling frantically to the surface. "Y-you can't do that here! This is Germany's house!"

Russia smirks and kisses America's jaw. "Well, that will just make another excellent humiliation, da? Can you imagine what a beautiful story that would make? Russia and America caught having wild sex in the house of Germany. It would shatter any and all dignity you have left, would it not?"

America's breath catches, horrified at the situation he finds himself in. Russia travels down his neck leaving gentle kisses. "Lucky for you I am letting you off easy this time. I will not do something nearly so extreme. I am just giving you a little present. I want to leave an even more intimate sign that shows the world who you belong to."

Russia starts to lick America's neck. America's body stiffens. "_Stop it_! Let go of me!"

Russia ignores his futile struggling, focusing on the task before him. He transfers America's wrists to one hand. It makes it a little harder to keep them pinned but he needs a free hand. He takes hold of the knot on America's tie and starts to loosen it, finally pulling it nearly free. He undoes the top few buttons of America's shirt and pushes it open, exposing America's deliciously vulnerable neck. His mouth descends upon the tempting flesh and he begins to suck, allowing his hand to wander down America's squirming body. America grunts as he desperately tries to at least free one hand. "Stop, damn it! Don't! God, don't leave a mark!"

There is suddenly the most horrifying sound America has ever heard in his life. The sound of the doorknob jiggling.

"Russia, oh god Russia please stop! Stop I'm begging you!"

Russia continues on with single-minded intensity and now the door is swinging open and rapid footsteps can be heard coming across the floor. "I heard a yell! What is going o-"

Germany stops dead next to the couch as he finally perceives what is happening. "U-uh-"

America opens his mouth to defend himself. "Germany! It's no-Ooooh~!"

Smirking against his neck, Russia moves his hand away from America's crotch. America's face turns sickly pale. Had that sound really just come out of his mouth? He wishes he could just die as the blush on Germany's face deepens. "Er, s-sorry for intruding. I just...I won't talk about this. I-"

And then something even worse happens, which is saying a lot. "Bruder did you find out- OH MEIN GOTT!"

Suddenly Prussia is at Germany's side, grinning down at the helpless America. "Mein Gott look at him! What a slut! West why didn't you tell me you were filming a porno? Let me guess, it's going to involve bondage?"

Germany coughs and looks away. "E-East! How could you- I wouldn't-"

Prussia pokes his cheek. "But you were thinking it! And look at the Russian, continuing on without a care in the world. This is awesome! Best day ever!"

He laughs and America's throat closes violently.

_Don't look at me! Don't look at me, don't look at me, don't look, don't look, don't! Please don't look at me!_

Satisfied, Russia finally pulls away and smiles at his handy work before turning to address Germany. "My apologies Germany. We finished discussing what we had to and I'm afraid I got a little carried away. Your brother made me so jealous I just couldn't help myself. I promise I'll show more restraint in the duration of my stay."

Germany clears his throat, looking away. "W-well...Er, that is..."

Prussia laughs mockingly. "Es tut mir leid, America. I didn't mean to make your boyfriend fly into a jealous rage with my awesomeness!"

Russia gives him a chilling smile. "Don't make me transfer that jealous rage to you Prussia. I promise it would be very violent and painful."

Prussia retreats behind Germany. Russia is surprised America hasn't retorted to that. In fact, America is being unusually quiet. Russia looks down at him. America is biting his lower lip, face twitching slightly. His eyes are fixed determinedly at a spot on the ceiling and look rather bright. It dawns on him that America is on the verge of tears. It seems too good to be true. While Russia is very eager to see America break down and cry, he does not want to share the experience with Germany and especially not with Prussia.

He sits up more and pulls America to him, hiding his face against his chest. "If you do not mind, could you leave? There is something rather private I actually have to discuss with Alfred that has just come to mind."

Germany quickly nods, not trusting his voice. Prussia smirks down at the two of them but isn't brave enough to directly provoke Russia again. "Ja, I bet you do. Something _very_ private I'm sure."

He wraps his arms around Germany's chest and waist. "Come West, let's go have a 'meeting' in my room."

Germany looks very uncomfortable. "B-bruder, don't..."

Prussia snickers. "So cute, West. Well unless you want to linger here..."

Germany struggles with his brother and begins his retreat from the intensely awkward tension of the room.

Russia waits until he hears the door firmly shut before pushing America away from his chest so he can properly see his face. America glares up at him but mixed with his poor attempt to stop his tears he simply looks painfully cute. He makes Russia think of a child who has just been told he can't have something he really wants. "I think that did not go too badly. And the mark I made is rather attractive on you if I do say so."

America opens his mouth and a sob escapes. He valiantly tries to stop the tears up again but that one action is enough to unleash the flood. He begins to sob silently in shame and anger, a steady stream of tears cutting down his cheeks. "I ha-ate you Russia! I hate y-you! Fu-uck!"

He lowers his head which Russia tilts back up, removing his glasses. His lovely, weeping Alfred. Spain had been right. Vulnerability is incredibly sexy. America tries to bring his hands up to push Russia away and hide his face. But Russia will have none of that. He takes America's hands again. "Let me see that beautiful face Alfred."

Alfred gives him a hateful look and Russia shivers. Having thoroughly burned the image into his memory, Russia releases America and pulls him close once more. With great tenderness which contrasts sharply with his sadistic behavior from only moments ago he strokes Alfred's hair and murmurs soft words into his ear.

America balls his hands into fists but feels too defeated at the moment to make much of an attempt to escape Russia's clutches. Instead he weeps, getting it out of his system, and thinks poisonous thoughts about Russia.

Soon his tears subside and he feels drained. He has another stress headache to boot. Russia pulls away and runs a thumb across his damp cheek. "Feel better?"

America sniffles. "Don't you dare ask me that! This is all your fault you bastard!"

Russia gives him a false look of shock. "Me? If we think about it for a minute we can come to the conclusion it is your fault. After all, if you only did as I say that never would have happened. I must admit, I am rather glad I got to see you like this, though."

America hisses. "You're a monster!"

Russia giggles. "That is a little harsh. And here I thought we had just had a breakthrough."

America snorts indignantly. "And what breakthrough would that be?"

"Well, we finally broke through that hard ego of yours which lead to a very intimate moment."

"Ugh! What is wrong with you? I swear, there is definitely something wrong with you!"

Russia tilts his head. "I think I would prefer to not hear you talk for a while. It ruins the illusion."

He leans in and kisses America lightly. America bristles like an angry cat. "Stop it!"

Russia twirls America's loosened tie. "Careful, you want to bring Germany back in here?"

America flushes, the words enough to make him bite back his words. Russia brushes his fingers against America's defiant lips. "That is better..."

He leans in and kisses America again, sucking on his lower lip. "Mmm... How successful would you say this meeting was Alfred?"

The mocking tone in Russia's voice is the last straw. America musters his strength and shoves a hand into Russia's face, pushing as hard as he can. Russia grunts and blindly grabs America's shirt. America claws at his hand and starts to tilt backwards. He slides off the couch as he slips through Russia's fingers, landing with a thud. He winces, his legs still caught awkwardly beneath Russia. "Ouch! Shit, get off!"

Russia rubs his nose, frowning. "That was unnecessary."

America struggles to get his legs free. "Get off! It hurts!"

Russia shifts his weight and America is finally able to pull them down to the floor. He rubs one leg, wincing. Finally he glares up at Russia. "For the record this meeting was a total failure! Shit... Where is Texas? I'm leaving!"

Russia looks around and picks the glasses up from his side, considering how lucky America is they hadn't been broken when he had pulled that stupid move. It was a mistake. Russia holds them out. "Temper, temper my darling Alfred. You could have just said you wanted to get up. If you consider this a failure I really do not know what you expected to get out of this."

America snatches Texas and puts them on his face. "To clear my good name which you have thoroughly tarnished in the matter of twenty-four hours!"

Russia sits up properly and tilts America's face up with his boot. "I did warn you."

America yanks his head away, standing. "...If you have no intention of taking this seriously I'll just sort this out by myself! In the meantime I don't want to hear from you or see your face."

Russia looks up at him. "You are gravely mistaken Alfred. I am taking this far more seriously than you are. "

America lets out an exasperated sigh. "Whatever you say, Russia."

He turns to leave. Russia is on his feet and across the room fast enough to reach over and slam the door shut when America tries to leave. He keeps one hand on the door and wraps the other around America's waist. He rests his chin on America's shoulder. "Ivan. I told you to call me Ivan."

America stares at the large hand keeping him from freedom. "...Russia."

Russia laughs lightly. "You really are amazingly stubborn. It is frustrating beyond belief and yet it just makes me all the more determined. Ivan."

America pauses for a second. "Russia."

He bites the top of America's ear gently. "This is not over yet Alfred. I will not give up until I make you love me."

Finally, slowly, he pulls his hand away from the door, his arm slipping away from America's waist. "До свидания. I will be seeing you soon..."

Heart in his throat, America grabs the doorknob and opens the door hastily lest Russia decide to stop him for more harassment. He starts walking quickly, his pace increasing more and more until he is at the front door, sprinting down the walkway and into the waiting car. "Drive. Drive!"

As he pulls away from the house, America slips his sunglasses on to hide his red-rimmed eyes. What is he going to do? His boss is going to be pissed. Not only that but Prussia might very well, and most probably wii, spread what he had seen Russia doing to him to God knows who. America has not only wasted the last eleven or more hours, but will be wasting the same getting back and he has nothing to show for it but a fucking hickey. America burns with resentment and shame. He pulls his coat closer and leans his head against the window, feeling decidedly like a failure.

~.

Russia sits on the couch, taking stock of the latest events. Personally he considers the whole thing quite the success. Seeing America cry is the highlight of his week. Perhaps his whole year. Of course now that he thinks about it...

He pulls out a plain, small notebook from his pocket and flips through it until he finds the page that says Spain at the top. He runs a finger down the page, turns it, searches... There it is. Ah. Apparently Spain had said that _he_ is supposed to be the one to cry, not America. Well...Russia decides he prefers it the way it had happened. America is so sweet when he cries.

Actually, as much as he enjoyed it, he's not so sure America had. Of course these are the early stages. He can't expect America to enjoy being taken down a few pegs, making him more emotionally fragile so Russia can take advantage. And it really is terribly fun to humiliate him. Still, America had said he hated him at least twice and called him a monster which is quite the opposite reaction he wants. Russia frowns thoughtfully. This courtship thing is a lot harder than it sounds...

* * *

Translations:

Es tut mir leid-I'm sorry (fixed again)

До свидания-goodbye

**AN:** It probably makes me a terrible person to say this, but writing a crying America was a lot of fun -laughs- I'm so mean to him but I really do love the guy


	6. Chapter 6

Hello~ Wow, almost to one hundred reviews! I feel so honored! And thanks to all the anonymous reviewers that I can't respond to. Someone mentioned I didn't have China do his little 'aru' thing. I hope it doesn't bother you too much because I find it kind of annoying so I don't want to do it -laughs- Well, here's a fluffy chapter to make up for the last chapter and especially for the next chapter -laughs-

* * *

Germany stands outside the door of the room he had allowed Russia and America to borrow. He can't bring himself to go in. After what he had seen earlier... Knock. He can knock. Somewhat relieved by the realization, Germany knocks on the door. There is no response. He knocks harder. Still nothing.

"I...I'm coming in."

Frowning, he opens the door. There is no one inside. He walks in further and sees a piece of paper lying out. He picks it up and reads it.

_Germany,_

_Deepest gratitude for allowing us to use your house as a meeting point. It was very useful._

_-Russia_

Germany folds up the paper and puts it into his pocket. He just hopes that it won't cause him problems down the road.

~.

As Russia waits for his pilot he turns on his phone. His boss is sure to be frantically looking for him as he had not exactly told him where he was going. Moments after his phone turns on it is ambushed by alerts of missed calls and voice mails, probably all from the person he is about to contact. He waits for the flood to stop before ignoring all of them and calling his boss. Just as he had suspected, he's furious. After explaining where he has been he half-listens to his boss's rant. He is starting to get tired of it when he notices an incoming call. It was from a number he doesn't recognize, but it is one that has been calling him frequently since he sent out the picture.

"I am sorry, I have a very important call on the other line. I have to go."

"Don't you dare hang up on-"

Russia switches lines. "Привет?"

The person on the other line sounds surprised. "E-eh? Oh, ciao! Is this Russia?"

Russia immediately places the slightly whiny voice as Northern Italy. "Da..."

Italy sounds very nervous. "U-um, I-I hope I'm not bothering you R-Russia...I just, um... I wanted to know how America is doing?"

Russia raises an eyebrow. "Why don't you call him then?"

"Ve? U-um well I can't get a hold of him... but... Um... I... Can I be honest with you Russia?" There is an audible cringe in the last sentence.

Now Russia is very intrigued. Italy has always been terrified of him, though he's not sure why. So for Italy to say more than two words to him is pretty rare, let alone 'being honest with him'. "Of course."

Italy's voice trembles. "P-please don't be angry! It's just... I noticed that yesterday you were being very forceful with your displays of affection for America and he seemed rather embarrassed about it. Then today you sent out that picture... I'm not trying to criticize you. I mean, maybe you are very excited for the world to know that the two of you are in love. But America is obviously really shy about it. I think such big public shows are a bad idea and could hurt your relationship."

He pauses timidly. "Can I tell you a story?"

Curious, Russia says, "Go ahead."

"O-okay. When I was much younger there was... there was someone I used to know that is gone now. I was so afraid of him because he was always being really forward and I didn't understand. By the time I realized that he loved me it was too late and... I haven't seen him since. The truth is I did like him but he seemed really intimidating so I..."

Russia can hear the sorrow in Italy's voice. "...I am sorry."

"Oh! No... that was a long time ago... But the point is, you see... Maybe you should try something else? Or...I mean maybe big brother France and Spain did give you better advice. Maybe America really would like strong shows of passion and forwardness but it couldn't hurt to try and be gentle with him too. Ah! P-please don't hit me!"

Russia glances out the window, eyes tracing the horizon. "I see. I had not thought of that. What would you recommend?"

Italy sounds surprised. "You're asking me?"

"Da."

Italy is silent for a moment. "Well... I don't know. I guess maybe try showing you love him in more intimate, private ways. Be romantic on a smaller scale. Like... like going on dates and bringing him flowers."

Russia pulls out his notebook and starts writing things down. "I see... Um... what kind of flowers? I mean is there a preferable kind?"

"Eh? Haha you're funny Russia! Well, what kind does he like?"

"...I do not know."

"O-oh... Well um...Give him the flower you think suits him best and I'm sure he'll like them."

Russia bites the tip of his pen. "Would sunflowers be okay?"

"Sunflowers? I think those would be cute. And somehow they do suit him. Do you like sunflowers Russia?"

Russia fidgets, blushing slightly. "Y-yes, I like them a lot."

Italy's voice is warm. "Then those will be perfect. Um... You know, I've always thought you were pretty scary Russia but somehow... I think maybe you aren't as scary as I thought after all. I wish you the best of luck with America!"

Russia is struck silent for a moment. "Ah.. th-thank you Italy. Um...May I call you again if I need more advice?"

"Eh? Of course you can, if you want to."

Russia smiles. "Thank you, Italy."

"Oh, no problem. I'm glad that I could be helpful after all."

That reminds Russia. "You like Germany da?"

"H-huh? Ah, yes I like Germany very much! Why do you ask?"

"You might want to keep an eye on his brother."

"Eh? What do you mean Russia?"

"Who knows? It is probably nothing. I only thought I should tell you to repay you for your help. I have to go now. I see my pilot coming. I will talk to you later. Um, and really, thank you."

Italy sounds a bit unsettled. "Oh...O-okay... Ciao."

Russia hangs up, face still flushed. People don't usually open up to him like that or show concern. Russia slips his phone into his pocket after shutting it off. He is even more determined to win America now. Still, Italy has a point. While his strategy to open up America through shame has worked very well it is time to change the strategy to something that will help finally capture the other. Russia has some time on his flight back home to go through his notes and come up with his next plan of attack.

~.

When America finally walks through his front door he feels haggard and bone-weary. He heads straight for his bed, curling up in the blankets and unmindful of his shoes. All he can seem to do is repeat everything that has happened starting at the World Conference to his meeting with Russia. It makes him sick every time. Groaning he pulls out his phone and turns it on. There are even more voice mails. He's sure that some of them are from his boss. He can't bring himself to call, to reveal that he has failed so completely, quite yet. Instead he looks through his contacts until he gets to England. Pushing send he closes his eyes, hoping and dreading that England picks up. Just as America thinks it is going to click over to voice mail England finally answers.

"Do you have any idea what time it is you bloody git? I've been trying to get in touch with you for hours and you call me now? What the hell is going on Alfred?"

America clutches his pillow. "England, I don't know what to do-"

His voice cracks and he has to stop.

"...Alfred?" The voice softens considerably, almost gentle now.

"I just... I don't know how to make this stop. Russia is... he's going to destroy me."

"...Give me all the details."

On his side, England stares coldly at the picture Russia sent as America begins to tell him the latest abuses at Russia's hands.

America pauses after describing how he had run from Germany's house. "What do you think...What should I do?"

England taps his finger on his chair agitatedly. "Don't worry Alfred, big brother England will take care of this."

"Wait... Wait what? England, I mean, thank you but I never asked you to-"

England cuts him off. "You won't owe me for this, I promise."

America sighs in frustration. "That's not the issue! I didn't ask for your help, I just wanted advice! Don't do anything England, you'll make it worse!"

England scoffs. "Look, I said I'll take care of it. Don't worry Alfred everything will be under control."

"Damn it England, you stupid bas-"

England hangs up and continues to drum his fingers on the chair. Yes, the Russia problem will be taken care of swiftly and without mercy. Nobody but England fucks with America like that. _Nobody_.

~.

After unsuccessfully trying to call England back, America glares at his phone then throws it to the bed. It begins to ring and he answers, hangs up when he hears France's stupid voice, then impatiently turns the damned thing off. He doesn't need to be harassed right now. Even more trouble is on the horizon. England is sure to make a huge mess of what is already a disaster area.

America punches his pillow and throws himself backwards, staring at his ceiling. This really sucks. It seems that if something can conceivably go wrong it is going to. "Pft, that's the last time I reach out to freaking England... Stupid idiot. I just wanted someone to talk to."

It is late and America is very tired. But as he tries to sleep he is haunted by thoughts of Russia, his boss, and nightmares of a phone that doesn't stop ringing until it begins to speak and harass him with the voices of various countries. Needless to say, if he manages to get more than three hours of restful sleep that night it is news to him.

As milky sunlight pours through his window the next morning America is taken out of a restless doze by the sound of knocking. Groaning, he sits up. He has a headache and his eyes hurt and in general he just feels like shit. Wearily he gets to his feet and walks to the front door, opening it cautiously. If it is going to be someone who wants to bother him he has no intention of letting them in. America does not recognize the man standing outside the door but he does recognize the outfit he wears as some kind of deliveryman.

"Can I help you?"

The man looks away. "Er...got a delivery for you."

After a pause of doubt America finally opens the door wider. The deliveryman holds out a huge bouquet of vividly yellow long-stemmed sunflowers. America takes them, frowning slightly. "Who are these from?"

The deliveryman gestures with his chin. "There's a note in there."

America finds it tied to one of the stems. "_Good morning sunshine! Love Ivan._"

America begins to tremble. The deliveryman starts talking as he reads it again. "I must say, not many people ask for sunflowers. Kind of hard to get them. I mean so many anyway."

America glances at the bouquet. It is probably the biggest bouquet of sunflowers he's ever seen but it doesn't seem like that many.

"Well if you'll stand aside we'll bring in the rest."

America blinks. "...Rest of what?"

The deliveryman whistles and suddenly there are more deliverymen, each holding huge arrangements of sunflowers. They walk past America, putting them in his living room. "Wh-what the hell!"

The first deliveryman nods. "I know right? That's what we said. Well... Hope you enjoy them."

He coughs and walks back towards the truck, soon followed by the others. America stands in the middle of his living room staring at all the sunflowers which seem to stare right back. Russia's second assault has begun.

* * *

**AN: **Russia and Italy friendship ftw? It just seems ridiculously cute to me. As a side note I completely support the Germany is actually HRE theory. (I'm pretty sure it was practically confirmed in the comic, right?


	7. Chapter 7

I interrupt your romance/comedy to bring you action! -laughs-

Ah, and I would quickly like to address something I've gotten a few comments on. Many people are a bit put off at how mmm weak? Alfred is being. I myself completely understand where you're coming from and also acknowledge that he should be a lot stronger than he is in the story thus far. However, if I wrote him perfectly IC the entire story would be one giant, violent battle scene where one of them would probably end up dead -laughs- I just want to keep the story moving forward at a reasonable pace and if he was fighting tooth and nail every second this would never get anywhere and probably would have zero romantic movement. I am quite sorry and I'll do my best to give him some manly time in the future, da? Please bear with me until then!

And once more thanks for the phenomenal reviews and alerts! You're too kind!

Dicslaimer: I do not own Mario or its characters.

* * *

America contemplates what he should do with the sunflowers. There are so many of them and they are from that asshole, Russia. Should he just throw them away? Burn them? Then again it seems sad to punish the flowers based on their sender. He frowns sharply at them. Well, he will think of something.

Yawning, he starts walking towards the kitchen. He will think better on a full stomach. On the way there is a mirror that hangs on the wall. America sleepily looks into it then keeps walking. After going a few feet he stops dead and whirls around, hurrying back over to the mirror. His neck is completely exposed, the hickey from Russia there for the world to see.

"Fuck! That deliveryman must have seen it! No wonder he wouldn't look at me!"

He is going to shred those sunflowers into microscopic pieces!

~.

Russia stares at his phone agitatedly. He has nervously been waiting for some kind of call from America to gauge his reaction. It seems at this rate he will have to call him. However, he is worried that if he calls too soon America won't have gotten the sunflowers yet. On top of that England has been calling him non-stop. For all he knows America has called and the idiot prevented him from getting it.

With a frustrated growl Russia finally answers just to get England to cut it out. "What do you want?"

The voice on the other end proceeds to blast him. "How dare you harass America like this you damned wanker? No one is allowed to mess with him but me! And he told me all about what you did to him yesterday! I won't stand for it, do you hear me you bloody prick?"

Russia narrows his eyes. America had gone running to England to confront him? He is disappointed. It also bothers him that the two of them are so close. Far too close for Russia's liking. "You dare claim who has what rights over him? He was barely your ward for the blink of an eye. It is pathetic the way you cling to him. Besides, it is not like you can stop me anyway. If I so chose I could fuck him senseless while forcing you to watch and there is not a single thing you could do about it."

"Piss off you piece of shite! Don't you touch him! And if you really want to know, what's pathetic is your desperate attempt to seduce someone who can't even stand you!"

Russia glares at the wall. "It seems you want a confrontation England. I am inclined to grant you one. But let us conduct this in person. Name a place and I will meet you there and we can hash this out like the gentlemen we are."

England growls at the biting sarcasm in Russia's voice. "Fine by me!"

After a second of thought he gives Russia a location and time. Russia icily agrees to both. With that decided England hangs up. Russia glowers at his phone. England has no idea how thoroughly he has pissed Russia off but he will be finding out very soon and he will be regretting it. No one tells Ivan Braginski who he can or cannot not have. Especially not that little bastard.

That America asked England to contact him on his behalf just pisses him off all the more. After dealing with Arthur he will go see Alfred. He has a few choice words for him about using England as a shield and on the proper etiquette of thanking someone after they go through all the trouble of sending flowers.

Russia stands. If he is going to meet England on time he will have to leave almost immediately. Now, where had he left his metal pipe?

~.

America looks through his closet for the right kind of shirt. After strangling a few sunflowers he finally calmed down and decided that trying to kill flowers because the deliveryman had seen a forced hickey is rather ridiculous even for him. He had left the rest as they were and gone to eat breakfast. Now there is the issue of getting dressed. He needs something to cover the mark.

America can't stand turtlenecks so he doesn't have any. Most of the rest of his shirts are either low-cut collars or formal shirts that may or may not do the trick. He digs through the closet hoping to find something or other. He pulls out a red scarf. Well it will work...

Suddenly America imagines himself standing in his scarf next to Russia. "Oh dear lord, he would just love it if we matched like that. Ugh!" He throws it carelessly into the closet. It is still too hot to wear scarves anyway.

Finally, buried under a pile of useless junk, he finds a first aid kit. He opens it up and discovers bandages. "Alright! I can use this. Awesome!"

America winds a length of it around his neck before slipping a shirt on. It does look a bit unusual but it is more than adequate in hiding the incriminating hickey.

Reluctantly America decides he can't hold off on calling his boss any longer. With a heavy sigh he turns on his phone, waits for the missed call alerts to stop, then tentatively dials his boss's number.

If America thought his boss would be angry he had been wrong. He is furious. It doesn't even bother him so much that Alfred had failed miserably so much as the fact he hasn't been given any updates or even heard from America in over twenty-four hours. After much groveling, apologizing, and explaining America finally appeases his boss to a mild simmer.

"I...I messed it up pretty bad. I let my guard down. But I swear my second attempt will be way more effective! I'll think of something, really!"

Once more he receives that heavy sigh that makes America feel like a total failure. "Fine. Please, just do something. We are starting to get things under control but there are still a lot of countries that are overreacting. Some countries in the Middle East and North Korea are really irritated in particular. They're claiming we're plotting something and we don't want to aggravate them. It's exhausting enough as is without all of this extra mess."

"I...I know boss. I'm really sorry about this. You have no idea..."

After assuring his boss one more time that he will take care of everything the phone call is ended. America sighs softly and runs a hand through his hair. This is one of the biggest personal crisis he had experienced since he developed a split personality during the civil war.

America tries England and gets his answering machine. "Stupid England! You better not be getting me into more trouble."

Pacing restlessly through the rooms in his house he tries to think of another way to get Russia to admit his lies to the rest of the world. As he walks into the living room he glances up at one of the sunflowers. He scowls at it. "What are you looking at?"

It silently stares back.

~.

England tensely looks around himself, scanning for signs of Russia. The meeting place is just outside a seaport on the west coast of Sweden. England checks his pocket watch. One never can count on others to be on time. Finally he spots Russia approaching at a leisurely pace.

England watches him come, face grim. Russia stops some feet away from him. England's eyes are drawn to the metal pipe that he holds as if it were a walking cane. He must be wary of it. Russia smiles with false cheer.

"Well England. How lovely to meet you here like this out of the blue."

England replies stiffly, "I don't have time for your games."

Russia smirks. "Oh my, you are not any fun at all. Very well then. Be the valiant hero and stop the evil villain to save the fair maiden. Stop me from wooing your beloved Alfred."

England furrows his eyebrows angrily. "Stop it! Look, if possible I want this settled as quickly and painlessly as possible. What do you want from him? Money? Status? Weapons? Power? I don't care what you're after, I'm telling you right now he won't give it to you. If you're just doing this to embarrass him then mission accomplished, I doubt you could do a more thorough job. Leave him alone now."

Russia taps his pipe against the ground. "How very arrogant of you to assume you know my intent. I either want something from him as a country or I want to humiliate him. Really? That is as much credit as you will give me? If the entire world were as charitable as you all the poor would starve."

England snorts. "What, I'm supposed to believe you have some motive beyond that? Don't make me laugh."

Russia continues to tap the pipe against the ground. "Does it seem like I am trying to be funny? I am not. Humor is not my forte. It never occurred to you that maybe I really just want him to fall in love with me?"

England lets out a sharp barking laugh. "As if, do you think I'm a total fool? Let's cut through the crap Russia. Like I said, I don't know what you really want from him but you have to stop. I'm warning you."

Russia twirls his pipe lazily. "If you feel so strongly about it then we have a problem. I will not stop until I have extracted the words 'I love you' from his lips."

England grinds his teeth and Russia smiles tauntingly. "Well England, better stop me. I am off to see him now if that is all."

Russia turns, pausing as he hears a soft click. He turns back to see England holding a handgun that is aimed at his head. "No Russia, you are not."

Russia laughs. "Come now England. Do not make me angry."

England pulls the trigger. A bullet grazes Russia's cheek and a trickle of blood is soon snaking its way down to his jaw.

"I think you should remember that despite a slip from the head of the pack I am a force to be reckoned with," England says softly, dangerously.

Russia is not smiling at all anymore. He reaches up and wipes at the blood, smearing it. "That was a poor decision England. Very poor indeed."

England cocks the gun again. "I'm the one with the gun Russia. Just give up this ridiculous pursuit of Alfred and we can both leave here peacefully."

Russia's grip tightens on his pipe. "Guns do not always declare the winner."

With no more warning than that, Russia launches himself forward. England is utterly taken aback by the sudden assault. He blindly shoots, missing Russia by a mile. He cocks the gun again and tries to aim. But Russia is fast, faster than expected. Not to mention a hell of a lot more agile than England would have ever given him credit for. He fires again, barely misses. England is cocking the gun for the third time when Ivan gets within striking range. With one powerful stroke he swings his iron pipe in an elegant arc, his eyes like blazing amethyst. England cries out as the gun is knocked from his hands. For a moment both hands feel numb and he can't determine the extent of the damage. Russia gracefully turns and delivers a softer blow that is still enough to send a jolt of agony up and down England's arm and send him sprawling to the ground. England grits his teeth to ride out the accompanying nausea.

He struggles to sit up and Russia kicks him back down. England grunts as the boot connects with his chest. Russia raises his pipe again, face contorted with almost gleeful rage. England shuts his eyes tightly, heart pounding. Russia is going to fuck him up beyond recognition. But then a surprise. While he feels cold metal against his face it is gently applied. He cracks his eyes open. Russia looks down at him with contempt.

"By all rights your head should be split open like a melon right now. However, Alfred would be really upset with me if I did that. It is for that reason and that reason alone that it is not. Please remember that. Next time I might not show so much restraint. Do not interfere with my business with Alfred, понятно?"

Russia retracts his pipe and walks away, leaving England with aching hands and an arm that throbs hatefully. He lies on the ground in a cold sweat, recovering his nerve and stealing himself against the pain. By the time he makes his way at a staggering pace back to civilization Russia is already well on his way to see America.

~.

America is on a video game break from coming up with super awesome plans to get himself out of his current mess when Russia comes to call. It is quite unexpected and completely unwelcome.

"Alright! Take that Bowser! ...Hmmm just how many castles does this guy have? And how did he get them anyway?"

"Hello Alfred."

America nearly jumps out of his skin as he lets out a startled cry. Russia stands in the doorway of his room, a metal pipe in one hand, a sunflower in the other.

"Russia! Wh-what are you- how did you- What do you-"

Russia cuts him off sharply. "Ivan, not Russia. I see you got my flowers. I never received a thank you. That is rather rude of you, da?"

America stares at the pipe wearily. "I never asked for them! Besides, a manly hero like myself shouldn't be receiving flowers!"

Russia throws the sunflower to the ground. "Why did you send England to confront me? It was disgustingly weak and cowardly of you."

America lets out an irritated sigh. "I knew he would do something stupid... Wait... you didn't hurt him did you?"

Russia looks at him coldly. "Perhaps I did."

Anger pushes all nervousness aside. He strides across the room and grabs the edge of Russia's scarf. "You asshole! What did you do? Where is he? I swear if you hurt him I'll-"

Russia hooks the pipe around America's neck. "He is fine. I just did enough damage to send a message. I doubt he will be able to use his hands for a while."

America flashes his teeth. "You son of a bitch!"

He moves to take a cheap shot at Russia who catches his fist then yanks on his pipe, bowing America's head painfully. "It is your own fault. You never should have sent him in your place. I will kill the messenger without a second thought if he bears news I do not like. And I did not like England's news in the least."

America struggles against the pipe that holds him in place. "I didn't send him! The idiot just said he would do it. I tried to stop him."

Russia narrows his eyes. "Sure you did."

America pulls harder on Ivan's scarf. "I did! As if I need him mucking around in my affairs! I knew he would just make it worse! Do you really think I would ask him for help?"

This gives Russia pause. America never does listen to England and it isn't in character for him not to confront someone personally. "Why were you even discussing it with him?"

America grunts. "Get this thing off me! Look, it's not any of your fucking business really. I was just...I just wanted to talk to someone about it."

Russia takes the pipe away and releases America's hand. "You wanted to talk to someone?"

America pulls back, glaring up at him. "Is that a crime? Now get out of my house you creep!"

America turns to find his phone. He has to call someone to make sure England is alright. Hopefully Scotland or Sealand will know. Turning his back on Russia is a bad judgment call. "You want to talk? Then let us talk моя любовь."

He proceeds to give America a little love tap on the back of the head with his pipe, knocking him out cold. With ease he scoops up the unconscious body, Alfred's head slumping against the Russian's chest. With a small smile Russia walks through the house, pauses to admire the sunflowers that he had sent, then leaves the house with his prize. If America wants to talk so badly then Russia will oblige him.

* * *

Translations:

понятно-understand

моя любовь -my love

Also, just so you know if I ever put a word in another language and you are just cringing because you know for a fact that it's wrong, feel free to let me know and I will fix it! I want to be as accurate as possible but alas I mostly just have the internet.


	8. Chapter 8

Whew, this chapter was hard to write to say the least! It took me a long time and a lot of editing and rewriting to be happy with it so I hope you enjoy it. It's a lot longer than my other chapters but I also don't know what my update schedule will be like this week due to finals.

And I am truly stunned and touched! I think I received around thirty reviews for the last chapter! I'm thinking I might do one of those deals where the 200th reviewer gets a oneshot to show my appreciation!

* * *

Russia sits on the edge of the couch looking down at America's still unconscious form. His face is much calmer than he has probably ever seen it. Russia reaches down and lightly traces his fingers across his cheek and lips. Ivan's pointer finger hooks around the bridge of Alfred's glasses and tugs them carefully off of his face. It won't do for them to get cracked. After all there is still a part of him that would like nothing more than to take said broken shards of glass and shove them into America's eyes. Ah, but he has to control that part. It is the part he doesn't want to listen to. If he is going to do this he has to go through with it all the way.

He smiles down at Alfred. "Lucky you, da?"

The silence stretches on and Russia starts to feel a bit antsy with the unconscious body. Usually he would be doing something to it. He rarely has to wait for someone to wake up on his own. He glances at America and slowly reaches down, running his fingers through his hair. It is pleasantly soft. Russia allows his fingers to rest entwined within the golden locks. He feels self-conscious and quickly pulls himself free, standing and pacing the apartment restlessly.

It hadn't been totally necessary to take America from his house, but it seems like a good idea to face him on even ground. America would have a definite advantage over Russia in his own house if the situation somehow got out of his hands. Not that he expects it to. Still, he has no desire to even chance facing a barrage from the gun collection America more than probably has stored somewhere. No, this place will do just fine.

Now, how should he go about having a discussion with Alfred? He isn't quite ready to make himself vulnerable to someone he still largely regards as his enemy. Maybe it is time for another call to Italy.

Russia taps his foot impatiently as he waits for Italy to pick up. The level of anxiety grows with each hollow ring. What is he supposed to do if the other country doesn't pick up? Finally relief as he is greeted with a cheerful, "Ciao Russia! How are you?"

"I had a bit of a rough day but I have been far worse. I wanted to ask for more advice."

"Eh? Already? Well go ahead, I'll do my best to help!"

Russia stands above America, watching for signs of life. "Alfred and I are having a, what do you call them... heart to heart of sorts. What should I do?"

Italy is thoughtful. "Mmm well... I take it that it's going to be about something important then. Well, you can try to keep it in a relaxed atmosphere by having it over a nice dinner. Try to make something you know he'll like. I'd go for pasta myself! But I don't know how much America likes it."

Russia walks towards the kitchen to see what it has stocked. "I also have some things I theoretically need to tell him but I do not really know how to go about it."

"Well that's easy. Just be as open and honest as you can be!"

"I do not really want to talk about it."

Italy's voice takes on a somewhat chastising tone. "Communication is important in a relationship! Whenever I feel apprehensive about something I just go straight up to the person and ask them about it and it always makes me feel better. It might be hard but if it's important you have to tell him. Just start out small and work your way into it. I know you can do it Russia! You've endured a lot. Talking to America should be easy in comparison right?"

Russia isn't so sure about that. "If you say that is for the best... I will give it a try. Also, other than torture what is the best way to deal with potential rivals?"

Russia hears what very well may be Italy falling over. "EH? T-torture? Russia what are you talking about? You shouldn't be torturing anyone!"

"Sure, of course not...So what would you recommend?"

Some of the nervousness has crept back into Italy's voice. "Well... um, I...I guess just talk to America about it if you're worried. I mean, I don't really..."

"Okay, let us put it this way. How would you deal with it if you suspected Prussia was your rival?"

"P-Prussia again? Prussia is Germany's brother. Why would he be my rival? Ah! I mean, that is to say, Germany...Germany is...I..." The blush on Italy's face is evident in his voice.

"Hmmm well never mind then. I will figure something out. Thanks again for your advice. Хорошего тебе дня."

Italy sounds relieved. "Sì, arrivederci. I, um, hope it goes well."

"Me too."

Russia hangs up and looks through the fridge then the freezer. No hamburger meat... Russia looks around the rest of the kitchen and notices something in the sink. There is a steak defrosting. America likes steak right? Good enough. How fortunate that the family who lives here had already started preparing dinner before he arrived.

Russia starts searching for a skillet then pauses when he hears a soft groan from the other room. He quickly returns to the couch. While it doesn't seem that America is waking up quite yet it would probably be a good idea to restrain him just in case. Russia smiles. Now this is something he cannot only do but is prepared for.

~.

The first thing America is aware of is the the deep throb at the back of his skull. In fact it is this pain that finally forces him unwillingly from what had been a mercifully empty sleep. He slowly lets his thoughts and memories organize themselves into coherency.

Why does his head hurt? Something about England...something bad...? Yes definitely bad. Something has been done to Arthur. Cell phone...has to find it...Why does his head hurt so fucking much? Hit, someone hit him probably...No definitely. Metal pipe...Hurt England...Russia? Sounds right, yeah Russia. Russia came over to play video games...? No, he had been playing video games, Russia came in and hit him with a sunflower... No, he had the sunflower then threw it on the ground, confronted him on telling England...He didn't tell England, of course he didn't tell England to confront Russia. Told him as much then went to find his phone to see if England is alright, made a mistake. Made a huge mistake. Russia had hit him with his metal pipe. Russia...Where is Russia? More importantly where is he?

Finally America opens his eyes. Or tries to. They feel drugged, reluctant. He rests then tries again. They flutter open. For a second the world seems to have a dark border. He blinks until it fades. His neck is stiff. For a moment he pulls a total blank on why his neck would hurt then it strikes him that he is sitting and his head has been slumped down for who knows how long. He cracks it then focuses on his surroundings.

In front of him is a table set with two glasses, silverware, and a bottle of wine, all illuminated by two candles. It's dark. He's outside. Well, sort of outside. Some kind of balcony... He looks to the side of him and sees the city. Where exactly in the city he is, he's not sure but at least he's somewhere he recognizes. In fact he momentarily feels weak with relief. Maybe if he gets a better look... He goes to stand up and for the first time realizes his entire body is immobilized. Panicked, he looks down and sees that he is restricted not by rope which would be far too obvious, too normal, but with chains. And restricted is putting it lightly. It's almost like wearing a chain straitjacket, his arms immobilized at an odd angle behind his back. Even his legs are chained down.

"What the...what the fuck?"

Well, no matter, he will just break one and go from there.

...

He can't move. He really can't move. Just how thoroughly had Russia chained him down? "Shit."

Okay, time to take a deep breath, think about this calmly. Usually he could wriggle his way out of restraints but to accomplish such a thing he has to be able to move something. Not to mention chains are a hell of a lot harder to get out of then rope. What is the next best option? He can potentially tip the chair over but then he will just be stuck on the ground. That would be stupid. So what else? His mind is still hazy and it's hard to concentrate. Especially with the ever growing sense of panic that is creeping over him.

He shakes his head, trying to clear it. Come on there has to be some way!

"Oh, you are awake. What good timing you have! Dinner is ready."

America cranes his neck trying to look back at the owner of the voice. "What the fuck are you doing? Let me go!"

America can hear footsteps approaching and then hands are placed lightly on his shoulders. "Do you ever relax? You are always so nervous."

America looks up as Russia smiles down at him. Suddenly hands are gliding from his shoulders to his neck, caressing the exposed skin. America jerks his head down, frightened that they will begin to choke him. "You tried to hide that pretty mark I gave you. You should not be so shy Alfred. Proudly let the world know that you are mine."

One of the hands comes up and strokes his cheek and America winces away from it. "Like hell I will! Stop touching me and let me go immediately or I'll-"

"Or you will what Alfred? I think even you can see that I hold all the cards at the moment. Why not shut your mouth for once and we will enjoy a lovely dinner and then we may talk about whatever you wish."

Russia retracts his hands and walks away. America grits his teeth and starts to test the chains. Is there any give anywhere? He just needs one weak spot to exploit. Russia returns and places a rather pretty steak in front of him. "For you. I myself am not particularly hungry but I will drink."

Russia pours a glass of wine for Alfred then pulls out a bottle of vodka and pours it into his own glass. He lifts both glasses and grins cheerfully. "To us."

He takes a drink of vodka then presses the glass of wine to Alfred's lips. He refuses to cooperate. Russia clucks his tongue. "Oh my, that will not do. Well I suppose I can force you to drink it with a kiss."

As much as America opposes drinking a 'To us' toast from Russia he doubly refuses to drink it straight from the other man's mouth. He takes the tiniest sip he can solely to avoid it. For a moment he seriously thinks about spitting it right into the Russian's face then decides as cool as that sounds it is probably not be one of his better ideas being chained up and defenseless.

Russia puts the glasses down and starts cutting America's steak. "I do not know why you are in such a bad mood."

"You have to be kidding me! You knocked me out and have me chained to a chair! Not to mention you hurt England!"

Russia gives him what is probably a fake pout. "But he hurt me too, see?"

Russia turns his cheek and shows Alfred the freshly scabbed over scratch from the bullet. "In fact I was just going to leave things as they were. He escalated the situation to violence, not me. I was just defending myself."

America doesn't believe him for a second. "I'm so sure."

Russia continues to cut the steak, his brow furrowing for just a moment before it smooths back, returning his expression to its default childlike state. "He will live. I did not bludgeon him either. Just for you."

America scowls and responds sarcastically, "Oh that makes me feel so much better. Thank you Russia, you're a fucking saint!"

Russia's eyes look a little harder than they did a moment ago. "Why thank you. And it is Ivan, remember? I wonder... Do you care so much because you are in love with him?"

"In love with... Are you kidding me? Don't ask me such stupid questions! Of course not, I'm concerned because he's a moron and he's my brother!"

This response seems to please Russia. "Mmm I do hope that you are being honest. Now open up, that should not be too hard for you."

America does in fact open his mouth to retort and Russia shoves a chunk of steak in. "Make sure you chew really well! We would not want you to choke."

America turns his head and spits it out. "It's probably poisoned! Don't feed me that!"

Russia sighs. "Idiot, I have had your unconscious body at my mercy for hours. If I was going to kill you I would not poison you. I worked hard on this so do not waste it. You are quite ungrateful you know that? No wonder you are single."

America flushes angrily. "As if you're one to ta-"

Russia uses the opportunity to sneak in another piece of steak and clamps his hand over his mouth. "Eat it."

Glowering at Russia, America finally starts to chew then swallows hard. Russia pulls his hand away. "How is it?"

America continues to glare at him. Russia picks up his glass and gulps down what remains. He will need it. "Well maybe you will have a better idea of the flavor once you eat more. Now you can either eat it yourself or I can continue to force you. Which would you prefer?"

America hesitates as an idea comes to him. "If I eat it will you unchain me?"

Russia nods encouragingly. "Da. But you have to eat it first, then I will let you go."

America grumbles furiously but if there is a promise of freedom he will take it. Then he can strangle Russia with the chains first chance he gets. Though he has to wonder how honest Russia is being. He definitely won't put it past him to lie.

Russia spears another piece of steak. "Say 'Ah'~!"

After staring blankly at him for a moment America opens his mouth, most decidedly not saying 'Ah'~! This process continues a few more times in silence. America barely pays attention to the process of eating, furiously plotting what he will do once he can move more than his head. Russia becomes nervous with the lull in conversation.

Suddenly he starts to giggle. "I just remembered something from when Napoleon decided to invade during the winter. His starving men were so desperate for food they cut off very thin layers from the sides of their horses. It was so cold that the horses could not feel it and just kept on walking as if nothing happened. The blood congealed immediately so it did not kill them right away. The French are so stupid. Though they are not the only ones who made that mistake. No one ever learns anything."

America looks at Russia with his mouth agape. "That's fucking disgusting! Don't tell me that!"

Russia shrugs. "I thought it was funny."

America's stomach churns as Russia feeds him another bite of steak. "Have you determined how it tastes yet?"

"I don't know, all I can think about now is those French soldiers eating their horses!"

Russia tilts his head. "Mm? That is grotesque of you."

"You're the one who said it!"

Russia's smile widens. "Fair enough. So, tell me Alfred, what do you want to talk about? What did you feel was so important to share with England?"

America groans. "I don't know. I just told him what you did to me you freaking pervert! I was asking him for advice on how to make you stop and then he overreacted as usual."

Russia laughs. "How silly. I will never stop Alfred."

America throws his head back in frustration. "AGH! Why? Just why! Did I do something to piss you off? Is this some sort of punishment? I want to know why you're doing this to me! Let's talk about that!"

Russia sets down the fork and knife, his face becoming closed again. "Well, I..."

He pauses and looks out over the city. He continues very slowly, hesitantly. "I wonder Alfred, what do you think it would be like if we did not exist?"

America snorts. "You and me? Well the world would be about two hundred percent less awesome without me."

'And two hundred percent less creepy without you,' he thinks to himself.

"I mean all of us Alfred. I am talking about a world in which none of our kind existed."

America frowns. "What kind of world would that be? Lame if you ask me."

Russia directs a keen look towards America. "Have you ever wondered why we exist Alfred?"

America can't figure out what connection this could possibly have with Russia's harassment. "Why we exist?"

Russia continues. "We are strange, don't you think? We are countries and yet we are human, not quite one or the other. As countries we can never have normal lives. As humans we can never be truly unattached or neutral. But...why? It is horrible in a way. We can live for ages, barely aging. Visibly at least. Because of this we are detached from humans who grow old and die before we can take a breath. So we join together, we create makeshift families to ease our isolation. We desperately seek a home with each other. But humans have no concept of us as families. Those who we call 'brother' or 'sister' they call 'ally' or 'enemy'. If they are marked ally we may keep them. If they are marked enemy we are forced to turn on them viciously. And we do. We do.

"We are powerful. More powerful than humans. Yet they rule us with their whims. Even though any of us could kill our boss with the smallest amount of effort we are their dogs. Of course we are willing to even do that if the people's strength outweighs theirs. Humans control us unquestioningly. If they ask us to turn on those we are closest to we shall do as they command. We are countries and as such this is our duty. But there is part of us that is hatefully human. We can feel pain just as much as they can. Yet even if it rips our hearts out we fight. We betray. We hurt those that we thought we cared for most."

Russia's mouth twitches into a frown. "And then they blame us. It is our fault, their suffering. If only Russia was more peaceful. If only Russia could keep better control of things. I cannot even remember how often I have heard those words, or ones to that effect. I try so hard but it is never good enough, is it? Not for them. Is it my fault that they cannot live together peacefully? Is it really so hard, even one single moment? I can never tell if you are lucky or not, you younger nations. I have seen so many unspeakable horrors, the birth and death of many gods. You have been born in a time so much more advanced, so much wiser in many ways, yet still so very ignorant. Life has been easier for you in comparison to what we have grown up with. And yet the monstrosities of your time have grown so rapidly into proportions never dreamed of in our youths. I think it may have shattered many of the older countries when they were about your age. Yet many of you endure it in stride despite your lack of experience. Though perhaps...it has created tension that makes your bones feel brittle sometimes? Either way, we are not the ones who create the weapons they use to destroy each other. We only use them. So why do they blame us when it is by their command that we do what we do? Even when we try our best it is always our fault. And never once do they consider how much it hurts, how much we have bled for them, how much we wish they would just stop."

Russia viciously slams his fist on the table, startling America. "How is it fair that we must bear their scars?"

He pauses and looks at his fist, violet eyes oddly bright. "Our suffering... is laughable to them. No...it does not even exist. Yet still we continue on, doing as they say. Over, and over, and over again. Through wars and blood and hatred and tears until we are scarcely able to stand it, until we break. We..."

Russia finally looks back up at America after another long pause. "You are so young Alfred. I was already quite old when you were first born. Even now you are barely an infant in comparison to many of us. Yet you control so very much power. Still, even with your strength and youth I wonder if there are times you lie awake at night and think 'I cannot do this anymore' until it feels like it might drive you insane. Or...more insane than you might already be."

America stares at him wordlessly.

Russia shakes his head. "I often despise the human part of me. It is weak and has been the cause of all of my suffering. Still, it is undeniably a part of myself that I cannot simply wish away. Trust me, I have attempted it. And there are times... There are times when something must be done purely to serve that part. Something that is not the will of the people or leaders. Maybe it is even completely contradictory to what they want. But if this part is not taken care of every once and a while then..."

Russia sighs. He doesn't want to say this. "I just cannot take it anymore. I have to find something to keep that part of me intact or I will just stop and I will not be able to start again. To act so selfishly is dangerous. When we act in our own self-interest it often leads to very grim consequences. Even countries can die if there is no one to hold onto them. I find myself at the point where I do not care anymore. Do you...understand Alfred?"

America continues to stare.

Russia rubs his face wearily. "Perhaps I can say this more simply. The human part of you is going to do something for the human part of me. Do you understand?"

America looks him straight in the eye. "No. I haven't a clue what you mean."

Russia closes his eyes and smiles almost bitterly. "I see... I suppose I could not expect more from you. I did try."

There is a long, uncomfortable pause and Russia wishes he had never said anything at all. America finally breaks the silence, voice very even. "Let me go."

Russia stands slowly. "Right, right. I guess I did say I would."

Russia looks down at America, who looks out across the city as he had done earlier. His face is carefully blank. It is impossible to say what is going on behind those brilliant blue eyes. To his amusement, Russia realizes that Alfred hasn't noticed that he doesn't have his glasses. Russia isn't sure how successful this talk has been but nevertheless he has to push forward.

Instead of letting him go straight away, Russia sits on America's lap, a leg on either side of him so that they are face to face. America gives him an alarmed look. "What are you doing?"

Russia starts to unwind his scarf. "I was thinking that you seem to be terribly embarrassed about your hickey so I just decided it might make you more comfortable if you were able to mark me as well."

America's face turns crimson. "Wh-what? What kind of logic is that? It wouldn't make me more comfortable at all!"

Russia unbuttons his coat and shrugs it open so that his neck is exposed. A rare sight. "Choose wherever you like."

America pulls his head back as far as it will go. "Hell no! I have no intention of giving you a freaking hickey!"

Russia leans in and forcefully presses America's face to his neck. "No need to feel hesitant. It is okay, I promise."

America presses his lips into a hard line, face growing hotter by the second. How did he get into this position?

"Come now Alfred. Even just a little one would be fine. I will not let you go until I have a reminder."

America feels dizzy. Russia hasn't just gone a step over the 'too close for comfort' line, he has taken a flying leap into the abyss beyond it. He has a very masculine smell, sort of earthy almost, which is something America never wanted to know. "Mark me Alfred."

With pure, blind compulsion, America opens his mouth and bites Russia's neck just short of drawing blood. Russia growls and clenches America's hair tightly. Instead of pulling him away like Alfred had expected, Ivan presses him closer. America closes his eyes, thoughts in chaos, and a very, very small voice in his mind whispers (fixhim) something he doesn't quite catch.

Finally Russia's fingers slip away and America is able to pull himself free. Russia smirks at him. He touches America's lips. "Why Alfred, I never knew you had it in you. This will make such a wonderful bruise. I am jealous, it will probably look better than what I gave you."

He buttons his coat and wraps the scarf back around his neck while America tries to look anywhere but at Russia. Somehow the Ruski had made him do something so humiliating. Damn it!

Russia gets off of Alfred and fishes in his pocket for a key then circles to the back of the chair where he begins to unlock locks. He unwinds the chains from around America. "There you are, free my little bird, with no harm done."

America rubs his arms and wrists to get circulation flowing properly. He despises the pinpricks of pain in his fingers. A part of him urges him to snatch up one of the chains and beat Russia within an inch of his life. Or strangle him. Or at the very least give him a taste of his own medicine. Instead he continues to rub his wrists, trying to ignore a familiar itch that had started right in the middle of his shoulder blades, a dangerous sensation that sets off warning bells. He has to ignore the itch. Has to-

"Where the fuck is Texas?"

Russia, who has silently been watching America do a surprising amount of nothing—he had at least expected for Alfred to attempt to punch him—grins. "I was wondering when you would notice. I am a little disappointed. I thought if you never noticed I could use it as an excuse to come see you."

He pulls them from his pocket and holds them out innocently. America looks at them mistrustfully then snatches them out of his grasp. He follows the action with a sharp blow to Russia's solar plexus. Russia gasps, the air knocked right out of him. America puts Texas back on and watches Russia struggle to catch his breath. As Russia finally starts to take shallow breaths in America icily remarks, "I held back from beating your ass for your oh so thoughtful consideration of my feelings and not killing England. That was your only freebie for the millennium. Asshole."

Russia can't help but laugh, a wheezy, thin sound. "You did always play dirty. Just like me."

America scoffs. "A hero doesn't play dirty, he simply gains the upper hand no matter the cost for the sake of justice."

Russia finally stands up straight, his lungs remembering how to properly take in air. "I see, my mistake."

America hesitates then continues. "And just so you know, a hero doesn't compromise himself, ever. To act for his own behalf is an unforgivable betrayal to those who depend on him. Even when it hurts most."

It takes a moment before Russia realizes Alfred is actually responding to what he had been talking about earlier. Had he understood some of it after all?

"Hmph. A hero that always has to be the hero and does not know when not to be will undoubtedly become the very thing he vows to destroy. The will of the people is not always a noble one. I know you do not have to think too hard or even that far back in your history to know what I mean. And nobody likes a hypocrite."

America scowls at him. "Fuck off, I always do what seems right at the time. It's not my fault it doesn't always work out. I'm leaving now. Just you wait, once I figure out how to get you to admit your lies to the world I'll pay you back for every second of misery you've made me suffer!"

Russia just smiles indulgently. As if that will happen.

America glances at the sliding glass doors that will lead to an exit. He has to get out of here and check on England. "Where are we anyway? This looks like someone's apartment."

"That's because it is. It was really a matter of luck of the draw. Before you ask I did not kill anyone."

America stares at Russia in shock. "What is wrong with you? Breaking and entering! What if they had been here?"

Russia decides not to mention that the family actually had been home and is tied up in a back room. They will be perfectly fine after all. He simply shrugs.

America scowls at him and turns to leave. Russia suddenly grabs America's wrist and tugs him back, turning him around. He cups Alfred's face with one hand and kisses him gently on the lips. It's so short that America doesn't even have time to react. "I am sorry I cannot escort you home. I know you will be fine. Still, I think this was a good first date."

"First date?" America pushes Russia away violently. "First date my ass! Go die in a car fire you psychopath!"

America furiously storms through the apartment and out of the building. Like hell he is going to tolerate one more second of the sheer confusion and insanity that is Russia.

Russia can't help but chuckle. That had been a pretty amusing reaction. Still, he's not sure how he feels. He really wishes America was the kind to immediately agree to be his lover so that he doesn't have to discuss such uncomfortable things. But of course then he wouldn't be America would he? At least it seems that some of what he said has gotten through to him. He just hopes he won't be forced to elaborate further. This conversation had been personal enough for him. Oh well, time to leave. He's sure the family will be discovered soon enough if they aren't able to get free on their own.

~.

America watches the city go by from the backseat of a taxi. Tonight has been far too crazy for him. His head still hurts and he wishes he had something to dull it. Once he got home he was taking something before he called England's house. He is still turning over and considering what Russia said. He had said a lot of truths. He also said a lot of things America didn't expect him to say. What exactly does he expect to get from America's human side? And why does it have to be from him at all? Why not someone else? And of course the question of why he hadn't broken every bone in Russia's body while he had the chance plagues him off and on. The itch starts up again and America closes his eyes. He has a feeling it will be another sleepless night.

* * *

Translation:

Хорошего тебе дня -Have a good day (fixed)

**AN**: For those thinking 'Hurray/Oh no, America is finally/already falling in love with Russia' you are incorrect -laughs- It is, however, a turning point. You should expect the story to lighten up a bit for a while now that some of the serious business has been taken care of.


	9. Chapter 9

The phone rings but no one answers. America runs a hand over his face. Why wasn't anyone answering? Even if England was too hurt to do so shouldn't there be others in the house? Like Scotland or Wales? They better all be injured for not answering the damned phone. With a heavy sigh America hangs up and looks at his phone in disgust. Looks like he had no choice... With great reluctance he finds the contact 'Frog face' and hits send.

"Come on. Pick up, pick up..."

There is a click. "Bonjour! I have been wondering when I would hear from you! You keep ignoring all of my calls mon cher. Vous êtes très impoli."

America rolls his eyes. "Shut up idiot. Look, have you heard from England? I'm really worried about him."

France chuckles. "Oh ho ho! Are you now? That's very interesting... Yes, I've heard from him. In fact I am currently with him."

America is filled with an odd mixture of relief and anxiety. Why couldn't France just say he was fine? "So? Is he alright? How badly did Russia hurt him?"

France sighs airily. "Oh it's so tragic Alfred! Your lover really was not pleased at all with him! His proper English hands are quite hurt and his arm is broken."

America tightens his grip on the phone, choosing to ignore the fact that France called Russia his lover for the moment. "Can I talk to him?"

"C'est impossible, I'm afraid. When he refused to let me use my healing hands to soothe his pain I simply made him soup and loaded it with pain killers. He is quite out of it for the moment and it is probably best to leave him this way for a while. Besides, he says the funniest things when he's drugged up!" France laughs again.

"Don't do weird shit like that! Look, I'm coming up there. Stop stuffing him with drugs. If England ever becomes lucid let him know, okay? He's such an idiot..."

"Adieu~!"

America hangs up on him without a second thought and quickly makes some flight arrangements. Sure he had some things to figure out with the whole Russia thing but it would put him at ease to see England for himself and talk to him about what an idiot he's being. It wasn't like him to act so foolishly. "Damn it, you're too old to act cool Arthur."

Only taking long enough to find his jacket, America is soon out the door and back on the move. He could only hope Russia would give him a little space. The last thing he needed was for him to stalk him to England's place.

~.

It goes without saying that after an uncomfortably personal conversation and a very long flight the first thing one wants to do upon arriving home is to fall into bed. The last thing one wants to do is deal with a viciously jealous, fairly insane sister. Unfortunately Russia is confronted with the latter the moment he opens the door.

"Big brother, you're finally home. Where have you been?"

Russia jumps. "U-um...I, I told you didn't I? I had some business I had to take care of. I-I'm tired so I would-"

Belarus slams her hand against the wall, looking up at him. "You've been going out a lot in the last few days big brother. I miss you so much when you're gone. I would like it if you would stay here with me always instead."

Russia begins to tremble. "Y-you know I can't do that Natalya. I mean, not that I don't like it here with you!" He hastily adds as she narrows her eyes sharply. "I just...It's just my duty!"

She grabs onto his coat. "Then you should marry me! Then I wouldn't feel so bad when you had to go away for long periods of time."

Russia looks around wildly for some escape. "I, uh, that is... Uh... H-hey, how about I s-spend some time with you now that I'm home?"

Her eyes widen and she nods once, her hands relinquishing their hold for the time being. Russia lets out a relieved sigh as she moves away. However she soon grabs onto his arm, hugging it fiercely. "We should get married big brother, then we could spend so much more time together."

He clears his throat noncommittally and doesn't meet her gaze. "S-So you've been staying inside and not talking to anyone just like I asked, right?"

She nods again. "Of course. If I do as you ask it will make you happy. Soon you will be overcome with love and we shall get married, married, married!"

Her vice grip tightens and Russia winces. "I-I-I just remembered I have to call my boss immediately! Um, I promise we'll spend some time really, really soon. O-okay? Please let me goooo!"

Belarus gives him a look that practically cuts like a knife. "I'll let you go for now, but I expect you to fulfill your promise this time. Don't make me find you like I had to last time."

Russia is near tears. "N-no I promise. I will!"

She finally releases his arm. "I love you big brother. So very, very much."

Belarus yanks hard on his scarf and Russia ducks his head down. Stretching up on tip toes she kisses him on the cheek. "See you soon big brother. I can't wait to spend some time becoming more intimate with you."

Russia tries to smile and starts to move away. He turns and waves nervously then walks away as quickly as he can. Of course he knows not to run. To run showed the intent of escape and Natalya might change her mind if she thought for a moment he intended to try and get away. The prickling on the back of his neck lets him know that she's still watching.

Once he's safely ducked out of sight he leans against the wall and breathes a sigh of relief. Belarus was such a pretty girl and she really seemed to mean well but quite frankly she was the most terrifying thing on the planet as far as Ivan is concerned. He can't run away from her like normal either. If she was out and about looking for him she would surely find out about Alfred and then who knew what might happen. He certainly couldn't get Alfred to fall in love with him if Belarus stabbed him to death in a jealous rage. Lucky she seemed content to obey his request. For now. Who knew how long that would last. That's why he had to actually spend time with her to keep her appeased. His heart is overcome with a small chill of fear.

His sister... she would be such a lovely girl... if she wasn't so scary.

~.

When America finally gets to England's house he doesn't bother knocking, instead just barging in. He hurries through the house, up the stairs, down the hall... America throws open the door to England's bedroom. France sits on the edge of England's bed holding a bowl of what is probably more drugged up soup. England is propped up with pillows looking very out of it.

France looks up at his entrance. "Ah, America you made it! Arthur, your precious Alfred has arrived!"

England's eyes open slowly, dreamily. "Alfred...?"

America walks closer to the bed. England's left hand is heavily bandaged. The right hand only has minimal bandaging but the attached arm is pulled up in a sling. "How is he doing?"

France stands and pulls America aside, murmuring softly. "He'll be alright. We heal pretty fast after all. Still, he won't really be able to take care of himself for a bit. I don't mind watching over him. I'll even keep the molestation to a minimum."

Alfred gives him a death glare and France puts his hands up. "Kidding! I halved the amount of pills I'm giving him so you can talk to him a bit now. Just be patient. He might still say a few things he might not normally. It's a good opportunity to ask him things. Like, there's a lot more to Queen Elizabeth's statement about being married to England than you'd think!"

"I wish you would take this more seriously! I don't think you should be the one to take care of him. Why isn't Scotland or Wales or someone that's not you here instead?"

France pulls himself up to his full height. "I used to take care of him all the time before he turned into a brute! And for your information neither of them wanted to do it. And it's not like you can. Russia would be down here in a heartbeat to finish him off!"

America crosses his arms. "Who said I had time anyway? Idiot shouldn't have been messing with him in the first place."

England speaks with a slight mumble. "I can hear you. Who are you to say... to say what I can and can't do? Little punk."

France chuckles. "See? Much more lucid then he was a few hours ago! Oh, and..."

He pulls America closer, voice dropping to a low whisper. "I've been trying to get a hold of you since the conference and you must simply settle this for me. Spain thinks Russia used his advice to win your heart. I say it was mine. How did he woo you? There's a lot of pride and some money riding on this!"

England grumbles softly. "What are you whispering about?"

America places a heavy hand on France's shoulder, laughing somewhat menacingly. "Oh so you gave him advice on what to do? Tell me, what was your approach?"

France smirks. "Well, obviously I told him he must be straight forward and physical. Determination is the key to winning someone stubborn and fickle, non? So is that how he did it?"

England tries to get their attention again. "Come on, what are you talking about? Alfred..."

America smiles in England's direction. "I'll be with you in just one second Arthur. France, let us talk outside for a moment..."

America grabs the back of France's neck and forces him out into the hallway, the door closing with an ominous click behind them.

"Ouch! Ow! America wait! That doesn't twist that way! Stop, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Mon dieu!"

This string of outbursts is followed by a sudden silence and America lets himself back into England's room. He goes over and sits where France had been. "Hey you big fat idiot. How are you feeling?"

England tries to sit up more and winces. "Nn, I've... I've felt better. And whose the big fat idiot?"

America shakes his head. "Do you know how seriously messed up it is when I have to be here at your bedside telling you how completely irresponsible you were?"

England scowls for a second then breaks into a low chuckle. "Is it the end of the world?"

Alfred frowns. "Don't laugh! It isn't funny! Just what were you thinking? Russia could have, I don't know, killed you, or dissected you for some weird Russian experiment for evil super science, or... or fed you to wild bears powered by radiation that are trained to only feast upon citizens from the United Kingdom!"

England gives him a 'you are giving me a headache you blimey idiot' look. "What the hell are you going on about?"

America points a finger in his face. "I was seriously worried about you! Look, I know you're just as pissed about this Russia thing as I am, and I know you have always had this overprotective side that you have a hard time controlling. That's no reason to try and act like you're actually cool. Your experience level is way too low to defeat the final boss! You're more like back up. So to make sure you don't get hurt anymore just leave this to the hero, got it?"

England stares at him. "My god I think you were actually attempting to be nice. Failed miserably, but bloody hell. I thought you weren't capable of doing that anymore."

America pulls himself into a heroic pose. "I'm very nice! I have no idea what you're talking about. Now promise me that you won't go recklessly putting yourself into danger anymore."

England starts to tear up. "I remember when you were little and used to crawl into bed with me when you had nightmares. You were so small and cute. One time you had a nightmare about an evil meat pie. It was so funny but I couldn't laugh because it really had you upset and you were taking it so seriously it would have broken your little heart if I had."

"Don't go on weird tangents from the past! Seriously... Don't worry me okay? I promise I can handle Russia on my own." Probably.

England closes his eyes. "I shouldn't have done that. I know. I know it was stupid... But what am I supposed to do when he's harassing you? I can't stand for that. I'd rather he hurt me than you anyway."

America shakes his head. "We both know that if you could make it so I was the one with the busted arm and hands you would switch in a heartbeat."

"Well maybe... The worst part is France really. I don't know what he's giving me for the pain but I'm pretty sure it's way too much. I think I died for five seconds earlier today. What the hell? The pain isn't that bad. Not to mention I keep expecting him to turn this situation into a bad porn flick with me defenseless to stop him."

America glances towards the door looking rather unamused. "I'm not so sure about that. Still, I'll find someone else to take care of you even if I have to put on some pressure. I might be the current laughingstock of the world but damn it, I still have as much power behind me as I did before that stupid conference and I will use it."

England sighs wistfully. "Oh for the days when I could use power with such whimsy and carelessness. See if you can get India. I want curry."

"I'll see what I can do."

England looks like he's getting tired. He can barely keep his eyes open. America runs a hand through his hair, looking at him thoughtfully. He should probably let him sleep now that he knew he was okay but he was curious... "Um, hey, have you ever... have you ever wondered why we exist?"

England tries to focus his gaze. "Did I seriously just hear a deep question come out of your mouth? Are you having an existential crises?"

America figures it's probably best not to ever let England know about his little 'chat' with Russia considering his last reaction. "I... guess you could say that. Sure why not. Have you ever had one?"

England leans his head back into the pillow, eyes closing heavily. "Hmph. Of course. We all have them from time to time. All of us get lost... Sometimes they're short, sometimes they're long. It all depends on how soon it takes to get through them."

Hey, this was great! If England had gone through one then maybe he could tell him how to get someone out of one! "What finally got you out of yours?"

England opens one eye and his face reddens slightly. "Well I guess that would be... You, Alfred. You chose me over that idiot France. I mean, there was really no reason for you to. Even I remember how intensely creepy I came off at the time. Maybe it was just because you felt sorry for me but that was... It meant a lot to me. I was... I was really horrible at the time and you still chose me."

His eyes tear up again. "Raising you changed everything. I guess I reconnected with something I had lost. And you were so cute and sweet... Damn it stop making me cry!"

America's face feels hot. "I'm not making you cry! I can't believe you just said something so embarrassing."

"You're the one who asked. America you idiot! It's all your fault, do you hear me you git? I blame you! Take responsibility!"

"For what? I don't even know what you're talking about anymore!"

England is silent for a long moment. "If you're really having an existential crises it's just something you have to work out. It will go away when you find and fill whatever is missing. Like I said, we all get them. They can be pretty rough but... I'm here for you. I just want you to know that. Even if I can't really do much. Same with Russia. I guess I can't do much to stop him in my current state but if you need anything just ask. I'll probably yell at you and say you're an idiot but I'll be there."

After a startled pause America reaches over and puts a hand on England's shoulder, squeezing gently. "Thanks. I mean... Sometimes I honestly wonder why you still put up with me. I'm only saying this cause you probably won't remember when you're not so drugged up but I really appreciate that you have my back even when I'm a total idiot."

England smiles faintly. "Better appreciate it you wanker."

America's hand slides away. "Well, I'm glad that overall you're okay. Remember, don't pull anymore stupid bullshit. Russia... I don't really know what he will and won't do right now so just stay away from him."

England grunts in irritation. "Why is he bothering you?"

Alfred flushes slightly. "I... have no idea. I think I should be going. There's a lot I have to get done."

Arthur hesitates then clears his throat as Alfred is standing. "Can you just stay a little bit longer? Until I fall asleep?"

America pauses then slowly sits down again. "Yeah. I'll wait until you're asleep."

"Thank you."

America shrugs. "It's the least I can do after you got your ass kicked on my account."

England frowns. "Piss off. If my aim had just been a touch better I would have won that easily."

For a moment America is tempted to ask if England had in fact been the one to start the violence then decides it not only didn't matter, he didn't care. Either way it had happened and was over.

Even after he has fallen asleep, Alfred sits with Arthur for longer than need be. Francis had made one good point. If he spent too much time around Arthur, Russia might freak out and hurt him again. Until he was able to figure out how to get rid of him it might be best to stay away from England.

America is also a bit concerned about England's comment on existential crises. What if Russia's lasted a really long time? And his solution hadn't been very useful either. He had unwittingly, almost indirectly told him that he in fact was the solution to Russia's problem. Like Hell he was going to be Russia's lover or whatever.

He just doesn't get it. If Russia wanted a lover it didn't have to be him. It could have been, well, just about anyone else in the whole world and it would probably make more sense. Plus he has a feeling if it was a matter of sex... Well, there is no doubt in his mind if Russia wants sex he can just take it as he damn well pleases. He shudders slightly at the thought. So what did he want from America?

America makes a disgusted face. Thinking about this gave him a headache. He gently puts his hand on England's head for a moment then stands. "Be seeing you Arthur."

* * *

Translations:

Vous êtes très impoli-You are very rude.

C'est impossible-That's impossible

**AN:** I sure love the family units in Hetalia~ They are way too cute.


	10. Chapter 10

Oh, look how lucky you all are! Another update so soon~ Haha I sure love Winter break. Hope you enjoy!

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Prussia leans against the piano, a smirk on his face. "I'm telling you Austria, you should have seen it. They were practically fucking! I shit you not! Bold of them, ja? Right in our house! That Russia is something else. I'm a bit jealous though. I wouldn't mind a taste of America. Too bad I didn't notice how sexy he is until now. You got the picture right?"

Austria tries to concentrate on the piano, striking the right keys, forming random sounds into art. Prussia bangs impatiently on it. "You listening to me?"

With a frustrated sigh Austria looks up sharply. It seemed he couldn't ignore the obnoxious Gilbert anymore. "I wish you wouldn't speak of such vulgar things! I could not express how little I care what Russia and America might have been doing in your _brother's_ house."

Prussia scowls at the emphasis on 'brother's'. It was so unnecessary. "You're so boring Austria! Shall I leave you alone to jerk off to your piano some more?"

Austria flushes. "If you are going to speak like that then yes, I would like you to leave!"

Prussia simply hoists himself up so he is sitting on Austria's precious baby. "Anyway, Russia was just sucking on his neck like it was nobodies business. America was all flushed and-"

"Shut up and get off of my piano damn it! Your stupidity is incomprehensible!"

Prussia laughs and jumps off. "Whatever. I have to get going and do actually interesting things. You're such a bore. Be seeing you Roderich, you tool."

Austria glares at him then sits back, trying to focus on the piece of music he had been playing. Really, some people were so tasteless.

~.

Hungary pours Seychelles a cup of tea. Seychelles takes it with a stunned, flustered look on her face. "How on Earth do you know that? I mean were they really..."

Hungary pours herself a cup of tea and adds a sugar cube. "Well, I can't say how reliable it is but I overheard it from that horrible, vulgar Prussia. It might have been embellished but it would not be below him to speak of other's personal business like that!"

Seychelles looks down into her cup. "So they were really...On one of Germany's sofas?"

Hungary tries to stir her tea. "I-I suppose so..."

They both blush and take a sip of tea.

~.

France stares at Seychelles. "What?! You're sure you heard that from a reliable source?"

Seychelles nods. "Oh yes, I heard it from Hungary and she's not one to lie!"

France crosses his arms. "And to think that rogue was so violent with me when I suggested he was Russia's lover and he had already made love with Russia on Germany's couch! The American fiend! I have no idea why he thought he could hide the truth from me! You did very well Seychelles."

He pats her affectionately on the head. "Did... well? You're so strange. I was just telling you what Hungary said."

France waves his hand. "Never mind! Just wait until I tell Spain about this!"

~.

And thus the tale of America's hickey grew, warped, and spread into a full on sexscapade. As for those countries that had had their doubts on the truth of the rumor of Russia and America's relationship... it soon vanished upon hearing the story that was always said to be from the most reliable of first-hand sources.

~.

Russia's special love attack, week one:

America doesn't want to get out of bed. He really doesn't. He had spent all yesterday talking to his boss and trying to smooth public and global relations. For some reason conviction of Russia's lie seemed to have gotten stronger rather than waning as the days passed. Much to his dismay he had been told to stop violently denying his relationship with Russia and instead focus on just assuring everyone nothing ill would come of it.

"It wastes too much time for you to convince them otherwise at this point," he was told.

Great. Why was the world so cruel anyway? America: victim of horrendous circumstance! It was a filthy, rotten trick. On the bright side he hadn't actually seen or heard from Russia in the last two or three days. Right, as if that was much of a reassurance when so much damage had already been done.

The doorbell rings and America groans, staring at his ceiling. It rings again and he reluctantly drags himself out of the bed, untangling himself from the sheets.

He hesitates in his bedroom doorway. He was wearing a tank top and boxers and his hickey was very visible. The doorbell rings again, insistently. With a groan of annoyance he returns to his bed, wraps a blanket around himself, then walks towards the front door. He looks around his living room. The sunflowers were starting to wilt. There was something rather depressing about dying sunflowers. It seemed he would have to start throwing some of them away. It's not like he had time to actually take care of them or anything.

The doorbell rings again.

"Alright, alright! I'm coming! Jesus," he mutters under his breath.

He opens the door a sliver. Another deliveryman. His eyes narrow immediately. "What do you want?"

The deliveryman looks at him like he's not quite sane. Perhaps he wasn't at the moment. "Er, well I have a delivery for you. Mind taking it and signing?"

"Do I have to?"

The man seems thrown for a loop. "Well... I... You are here after all. Why wouldn't you?"

America rolls his eyes and opens the door. Of course. More sunflowers. As if he didn't have enough. America signs half-heartedly and takes the bouquet. "There aren't any more sunflowers then these ones are there?"

The man shakes his head and America lets out a relieved breath. "Good, I'm already drowning in them."

The deliveryman tips his hat. "Have a good day sir."

America grumbles something unintelligible and closes the door. There is a small note included with the flowers. With a slightly sinking feeling America takes it and opens the small card, setting the flowers aside.

"_Go to your kitchen. Love Ivan!"_

The blood in America's veins all but freezes. His kitchen...? His gaze nervously flickers in that direction. What ungodly horror awaited him there? America swallows hard and lets the blanket drop to the floor. It would only infringe on his ability to move.

Senses completely awake now, America begins to walk towards the kitchen. Each sense, each nerve, feels hyper sensitive and alert. He would not let Russia take him by surprise again. Heart pounding, he finally stands at the door. Mentally preparing himself, he finally throws the door open and takes a step forward, looking in each direction as quickly as possible. There didn't seem anything suspicious... Though it did smell like coffee and he hadn't gotten up to make any yet.

He takes a few more steps in. What exactly was he looking for?

His sharp eyes finally land on another note resting almost menacingly on the kitchen table. Scanning the kitchen again he walks towards it and picks it up, reading it.

_Alfred,_

_I'm sorry I had to send so few flowers this time. Apparently it's rather difficult to send such big orders of the same kind of flower in such a short amount of time. Just know that if it was up to me I would give you enough to fill your entire house._

'As if I would even want that many!' America thinks agitatedly.

_You're very pleasant to look at when you sleep. Did you know that? However, I noticed you seem to be developing dark circles under your eyes. I do hope you are getting the proper amount of rest. I myself have been sleeping a little restlessly since our talk the other day. I'm just a little nervous about having taken such a big step forward in our relationship. I am anxious to perhaps discuss this some more to see if it finally got through your rather thick skull. _

_Oh, and by the time you finish reading this I will be behind you._

_Love Ivan_

It takes a moment for the full impact of that last sentence to hit America. When it finally sinks in his whole body tenses. "Wha!?"

He whirls around and Russia smiles happily down at him. "Hello darling!"

"How did you- When did you- What the fuck!?"

Russia giggles. "You're so cute Alfred! It feel like I haven't seen you in forever. Come, let me embrace you!"

He takes a step towards America, who scrambles violently backwards, ducking under the kitchen table and scurrying to the other side. "You stay away from me! How did you sneak up behind me?"

Russia shrugs. "Very quietly."

He starts to circle the table slowly and America mirrors his movements, determined to keep the table between them. Ivan finally pauses, both amused and exasperated with Alfred's futile efforts. "Ah, I wanted to show you the mark you gave me. It really turned out quite impressive!"

As he loosens his scarf America begins to eye the door and tries to calculate how far it is and what his chances of reaching it are. If he could get out with even a small head start he might have a chance at reaching a gun to defend himself. There are also the kitchen knives but they were all on Russia's side of the room and his chances of reaching them are fairly slim unless he manages to make his way completely around the table.

Russia brings back his attention to him. "See? I can even feel the imprint of your teeth in some places."

He runs his large fingers over a very intense bruise. It is a dark shade of purple, sickly yellows and almost greens tinting the edges.

Russia beams. "I'm actually rather pleased with it. I've been considering dressing differently for a while so others can get a look at it. What's the fun if it's a secret after all?"

Alarm shoots through America. "Don't you dare do that! Keep it hidden! People would totally misinterpret it!"

Russia raises an eyebrow. "Oh? How so? They would surely assume correctly that it was from you, my lover. Though they might think you're rather kinky and even I haven't determined that yet."

America all but growls. "Don't. Just don't."

Russia pouts then brightens. "I see, perhaps you like it to be our little secret? Or maybe you're shy? That's adorable of you."

"Stop imposing your weird thoughts onto me! Why are you in my house?"

Russia sighs as if it should be the most obvious thing in the world. "I came to see you and I wanted to take you by surprise. Oh! I made you coffee. It's still hot and fresh. Would you like some?"

When America simply stares at him unresponsively Russia turns and walks to the counter. He grabs a coffee mug and fills it with the brewed coffee, leaving just a little bit of room in case Alfred is a cream and sugar man. He's not really sure.

America watches Russia do all of this with narrowed eyes. "How the hell did you know where my coffee mugs are?"

Russia walks back to America with the mug. He slides it halfway across the table and smiles. "While I was waiting I made myself familiar with quite a few of your rooms."

America prickles, his sense of privacy and personal space completely violated. "How dare you! Who the hell do you think you are? You can't just go looking through my house, through my things! You're such a fucking creep!"

Russia tilts his head. "Your coffee will get cold. I noticed you haven't been taking care of the sunflowers. Would you like me to? It saddens me to see them in such a neglected state."

America slams his hands down on the table. "Don't change the subject!"

Russia rubs his eyes. He was trying. He was really trying. Wasn't he? Couldn't Alfred give him even the slightest break? A small hiss escapes him. "I apologize. I was curious that's all."

America continues to scowl at him. Hadn't he done the proper thing? He had apologized hadn't he? Perhaps it had slipped his mind how stubborn and insufferable the brash young nation could be.

"I said I'm sorry. Won't you forgive me?" Even he is aware of the slightly exasperated tone in his voice.

But he is finally rewarded by the sight of America's posture relaxing. While his expression remains angry it is not so intense. "No, I can't say I will. You had no fucking right. If I ever, ever catch you doing it so help me God I will beat you within an inch of your life! Do you understand me?"

Russia's smile brightens again. "Sure, no problem. Besides, at this point the only other room I have any interest in is your bedroom."

America flushes cutely. "Stop saying weird things like that! It's not going to happen!"

Russia chuckles as America begins to eye the coffee. He did want some and it might make him more alert. What were the chances that Russia had drugged it or something? He debates it back and forth before hesitantly reaching over and grabbing it. As long as he only drank some of it he should be fine. Russia watches this small inner struggle with rapt attention, feeling oddly gratified when he notes that America drinks his coffee black. Of course.

Satisfied, Russia turns towards the door. "I'm going to tend to the sunflowers now."

America opens his mouth then pauses. To be honest he didn't want to do it himself so if Russia was willing to do it... Well maybe he would let him hang around long enough to do that. Then he had to get the hell out.

Following him to make sure he only touches the sunflowers, America takes a seat on his couch and sips the coffee, watching Russia for even the slightest sign of treachery. Russia meanwhile hums to himself, looking through the sunflowers, pulling out the ones that had died. He bet Alfred hadn't even given them fresh water. And why did some of them look like they had been shaken or something?

Russia looks over at America and can't help but chuckle. "You are very strange Alfred."

He looks at Russia incredulously. "I'm the strange one?"

Russia smirks at him for a moment before turning back to the task at hand. "Yes. I have broken into your home, disturbed your personal space, and reaffirmed my desire to make you my lover whether you want to be or not. Anyone else I can think of would be trembling in fear or running away. You watch me take care of the gift I sent sipping coffee I made you in your boxers. And yet you claim that you will never be my lover and constantly threaten me with physical violence for my actions. Which you never fulfill I might add. You are fascinating to me."

America snorts. "The answer is simple. I'm not afraid of you." Okay, mostly not afraid, but he didn't need to know that.

Russia rubs a petal between his thumb and pointer finger. "I know. It's something I like about you. Well, something I usually like about you. It really is rare... I guess I can't help but value it when no one else acts so openly with me. Though it can be rather aggravating at times. I still find it strange."

That itch again. America arches his back slightly. Russia catches the motion out of the corner of his eye. "Something wrong?"

America futilely rubs his back against the couch. "Just an old itch I have a hard time scratching."

Russia turns to him. "Shall I scratch it for you?"

America quickly forces his body into control. "No. Just stay where you are."

He looks down and realizes that he also drank all the coffee. "Shit."

With an amused smile Russia walks closer to him. "Do you need more coffee? I have to get fresh water anyway, shall I get you some?"

America emphatically shakes his head. "No way, it's bad enough I had this much! If you put something weird in it the last thing I need is to drink more of it!"

Russia makes his eyes widen in mock surprise as he kneels down at America's feet. "How did you figure out I put something in it?"

For a moment America's heart stops. "Wh-what?! You did?! Fuck I knew it!"

He grabs his throat. "What did you do? Poison me?"

Russia leans in, stroking America's thigh. "Mm, nothing like that. The drug was an aphrodisiac. You should be feeling it any minute now. Soon you'll be begging me to take you over and over again."

America's body becomes very hot. The drug taking effect? He pulls back farther into the couch, away from Russia's stroking fingers. "Shit! You son of a bitch! I won't do it you hear me? I won't!"

Russia leans up, grabbing Alfred's legs and pulling them down. "Oh no? Are you so sure?"

America can feel the blood pulsing violently in his panic stricken body. He wouldn't give in to Russia's advances even with a drug right? Right?

Suddenly Russia's face contorts into amusement. "Pft, did you actually believe me? You should see your face. I was lying. I didn't think to put anything in your coffee. A good idea for future reference. Though I wonder if I had continued to pretend I did if you would have had sex with me? The placebo effect is very powerful. Especially on impressionable minds. Maybe I should have..."

America feels like he could die of relief and embarrassment. "God you are an asshole! What is wrong with you?"

Russia leans his chin on Alfred's knee. "You're just so fun to tease."

Alfred shakes his knee impatiently. "Get off of me!"

Russia leans back, head tilting to look up at his chosen beloved. Such a fierce scowl. "Well, I'm going to change the water now. After that I would... I would like to talk."

America gives him a chilly look. "We'll see."

Russia shakes his head lightly. "So you say, but we both know I'll have my way in the end."

He hoists himself up to his feet and turns his back on a flustered America, grabbing two of the flower arrangements and carrying them to the kitchen.

America pulls his legs up and hugs them fiercely. How could he have forgotten in such a short time how good Russia was at psychological warfare? If he was going to defeat Russia he would have to be completely alert, always on his toes, and way less gullible. He would win. He had to win.


	11. Chapter 11

Hey, sorry this has taken a while in comparison to what I usually do. I've just been focusing on God Save America because it's really close to being done. Also I've noticed a couple people have commented on the genre tags... It's not quite romantic yet but I personally think it's hilarious *smiles* I guess that is just a case of different wavelengths in humor. And finally congratulations to InsaneChickofWriting for being my 200th reviewer! I'll try to get that posted soon.

* * *

America watches Russia walk back and forth between the living room and the kitchen over and over again changing the water in the sunflower arrangements. He seems rather cheerful the entire time. Alfred can't believe him. If that was him doing that—not that he would put so much effort into things that were going to die soon anyway—he certainly would not be doing it with a smile on his face. Then again Russia rarely did anything but smile. So maybe he wasn't having as much fun as it appeared.

As he watches Russia he tries to think of different ways to make him leave as soon as he's done. He doesn't even want to talk to Russia about the weather never mind their _feelings_. Ugh, so lame.

At first the plans are fairly plausible. Excuses such as having to go to a meeting with his boss. The longer he has to think about it the more out of control they become. They fall more along the lines of giant pineapple creatures that are about to ascend from the center of the earth, a product of nuclear waste and a careless housewife by the time Russia is finished.

He tilts his head as he watches America's brooding face. With an amused smile he sits next to him on the couch and clasps his hand. "Alfred, I've finished!"

America flinches and tries to pull away. "If I don't stop them they'll make all our oceans acidic!"

Russia looks at him blankly. "Huh?"

After a pause America clears his throat and tries to tug his hand away. "I mean, I have just remembered something terribly urgent I must attend to."

"Oh, is that so? Well it will simply have to wait just a bit longer." He laces his fingers between Alfred's and squeezes as hard as is possible without breaking anything.

"Ouch! Let go!" America punches Russia's arm.

Russia doesn't even flinch. "I will if you just spend even a little time talking to me."

America winces. "Fine, let go!"

Russia loosens his grip without actually letting go. "So, now that you've had some time I was... I was wondering if you maybe understand a little bit what I was trying to tell you the other day."

With some struggling America finally pulls his hand free, turning his back on Russia. "No. There, we've talked. Now get out."

Russia takes the opportunity to rub his arm unobserved. That had really hurt quite a bit actually. No doubt he'd have another bruise from his lovely America. "You didn't even think about it did you?"

America snorts. "Why should I? It's not like I care if you're having an existential crises!"

Russia suddenly throws himself over America, his arms wrapping around his middle. "Aw, I never said that's what I was having. The fact that you came to that conclusion proves that you did think about it. How sweet of you Alfred!"

Damn it, Russia is too heavy to support on his back. "Hey, stop it you freak! Get off! I-I didn't think about it! Not one bit, I came up with that just this second!"

Russia giggles. "Italy is right, you're so shy. It's adorable."

Suddenly America feels lips press against the back of his neck. "WHOA! Hey, cut it out!"

Throwing all of his weight forward he breaks Russia's hold, landing hard on his knees on the floor. With a quick turn he glowers up at him. "And why the hell is Italy talking about me?"

Russia smiles down at him, lying casually on the couch. "Everyone is talking about you these days Alfred. Or more specifically they're talking about you and I."

America points at him. "And it's all your fault! This totally sucks do you hear me?"

Russia lowers his eyelids. "Hmm, Alfred, what do you think I want from you?"

America swallows hard, looking away from Russia. "As if I know. I... Why don't you just tell me?"

"Because I asked you. What do you think I want from you? Walk me through your thought process."

This was obviously another mind game. But what was its objective? America sits back, rubbing his knees. "Okay, I'll play. What do you want from me? You've already told me you want me to be your lover but I know there must be something deeper to it than that or you wouldn't be asking. The motive and the action aren't the same thing. That night you said you wanted the human part of me to do something for the human part of you. It... it's something more than sex or you would have attempted to take it already..."

Russia can't help but smirk at the slight blush on America's face. "Go on."

America looks at Russia, into those psychotic violet eyes. "I don't know. Something like... I don't know."

As America stares into Russia's eyes, Russia stares into his and he sees. America... there is something that he has grasped but refuses to say, perhaps to acknowledge? "Why is it so hard for you? I told you in the first sentence that started all of this. Must I hold your hand through this whole process? I want the two of us to fall in love."

America leans forward slightly. "I already told you didn't I? Motive and action are not the same thing."

Russia's eyes widen slightly. That had actually been a fairly intelligent reply. "...Very true. Touchè."

America crosses his arms. "So why the hell should I know what you want? If you want me to know so badly just spit it out already. I don't like your mind games Russia. I had quite enough of them during the Cold War."

Russia rocks sideways and with a rather loud thud allows himself to fall on the floor. America stares at him. Just what was he trying to pull? Suddenly his hand shoots out and grabs America's ankle, giving it a sharp tug. Not expecting the attack and with his arms crossed, America has no way to brace himself and his head hits the floor. As he blinks bright lights out of his vision Russia crawls on top of him. "How many times must I ask you to call me Ivan?"

America reaches up and gingerly touches the back of his head. "Shit! What was that for? And I am not calling you by your human name!"

Russia suddenly grins at him. "I know, either you call me by my human name or you kiss me. Either is fine with me."

America's jaw drops in disbelief. "What kind of stupid choice is that?!"

"It's the one I gave you. Now choose."

America snarls at him. "Russia."

Russia leans in. "Mm, you sure about that Alfred?"

He lightly licks the dip beneath America's lower lip. With a grunt America presses up on Russia's chest, pushing him away. "Russia! Russia, Russia, Russia, Russia!"

Russia sighs very softly. "I don't know why you're so very insistent about this. It's just a name."

America gives him a chilling look. "Then why do you want me to say it so badly? It's just a name right?"

Russia's smile breaks down into a small, annoyed frown. He tries to grab hold of America's wrists. America dodges his grasp and tries to topple Russia to the side. Limbs wave wildly as the two of them roll over a few times, both struggling to end up on top. Russia has America's arm, then America hits Russia's face, then Russia delivers a blow to his chest that knocks the air out of him. This lucky punch is enough to give him the advantage. As America is trying to recover his breath Russia pins him and secures his hands.

"Now. Back to your decision."

America is finally able to take a few deep breathes. "Y-you son of a.. of a bitch!"

"Yes, yes, now do you want to kiss me or do you want to say my name?"

"I...I..."

The smile returns to Russia's face. "Yes? Make sure you speak up so I can hear you clearly."

America gives him a hateful look. "Braginski."

The two of them stare at each other for a moment. "Well... technically it is my human name... Hmph. You win this one I suppose. Mm, but before I let you go I can't give up an opportunity like this can I?"

Russia leans in and kisses America full on the lips. They are so pleasantly warm, so filled with life. Russia deepens the kiss hungrily. Contact, such delicious contact of the flesh.

America tries to turn his head away but Russia follows persistently. Irritated beyond belief, America finally bites Russia's lip. Still he lingers a moment longer. When he pulls away he licks it. "Such a violent lover. People might begin to wonder if you're a sadist."

America turns his head and spits. "It's called self-defense!"

Russia sits up then gets off of America. Wasting no time, America scrambles to his feet and backs away from him. With great conviction he points towards the front door. "Get out! _Now_."

Russia pouts. "I don't want to go home. As long as you're going to be leaving let me stay here. That way you'll know I won't bother you."

"As if! Absolutely not! Besides you would just go through all of my things if I did that!"

Russia looks up at him with a pleading expression. "Oh please Alfred. You have no idea what is waiting for me at my house right now. Besides, I told you I was only interested in your bedroom now and that's only when you're in it. I'll behave. Just let me read or watch a movie or something."

America has opened his mouth to protest again but freezes when he hears 'movie.' America inwardly chastises himself. Now was not the time to brag about that... It really wasn't. He had to be firm. Tell Russia no, that he simply had to leave. Here he goes. "Movie you say?"

Fuck, why did he suck so much? Sometimes having the ego of a hero was not best for one's personal health or sanity.

Russia nods. "Yes, I could just watch one or two... or five. Anything."

America starts to chuckle and adjusts his glasses. "Well, a movie you say. Hm, let's just see what I have."

He walks over to a fairly unremarkable wall and presses a code into an inconspicuous key pad that Russia hadn't paid much mind to. With a soft whir then click the wall suddenly slides out of place revealing a larger than life movie collection that stretches from ceiling to floor. Russia's eyebrows shoot up in surprise and he stares at it in something close to awe.

America notes the reaction with deep satisfaction. He puts his hands on his hips and laughs cockily. "Pretty impressive, isn't it? I have more in one of the other rooms but this is pretty much the best of the best. My personal favorites are in the middle. The lower shelves are mostly action, comedy, and horror but there are also things like romance, sci-fi, indie, classics and foreign films higher up."

America beams, damn well knowing what an idiot he is for showing off his movie collection when he should be kicking Russia out on his ass. But he almost never got to show it off to anyone new and he was so proud of it.

Russia stands and walks over, eyes scanning the shelves. He takes one out. "Wow, I haven't seen a lot of these. Many of them were banned from my country for a long time and I never had time to look for the black market copies. I've just been too busy to catch up."

America looks at his movies glowingly. "I never did understand why you didn't want my super awesome and totally fantastic movies imported in."

Russia pulls out another one. "My boss was afraid your poor moral structure and silly ideals would come through in your films and poison the minds of the masses with filth."

"My movies are not filth!"

Russia giggles. "No, I like your movies for the most part. Do you have any of mine?"

America looks up at his collection thoughtfully. "I guess I have some from you. I have at least a handful of movies from most of the others. Though I mainly have ones from Kiku at the moment."

Russia frowns slightly. America didn't seem to have any problem saying Japan's other name. "I see."

America waves his hand. "But what would you want to watch one of your movies for? I'm sure you can see them whenever you want."

Russia turns to him with a mischievous smile. "Oh, so I am allowed to stay and watch some after all?"

America mentally smacks himself. "Er, I never said-"

Russia holds up the ones he had taken from the shelf. "Would these ones be alright? I promise I'll leave when I'm done. If you don't let me I'll follow you all day trying to grope your ass."

America flushes angrily. "Oh fine! But if even one thing is moved so help me-!"

"Yes I know, you'll beat me or something."

America glowers up at him and Russia smiles sweetly in return. "Hmph."

He snatches the movies from Russia's hands and walks over to his entertainment system, opening it up. It holds a huge flat screen TV, DVD player and BluRay player, surround sound, speakers, some boxes that served some mystery purpose and were probably never even used, and all of the newest game systems as well as some of the old ones. Russia is amazed it doesn't explode from the pure amount of wires there must be in one concentrated area.

"You and your toys Alfred."

America throws him a dirty look. "Shut your face."

Russia settles down onto the couch. "I bet you would get along pretty well with Estonia. He likes technology too. Though he might be more into computers."

America can't particularly remember ever having talked about it with Estonia, or much at all for that matter. He shrugs one shoulder. "If you say so."

He sets up the movie. "There, enjoy yourself. Don't touch anything."

Russia beams at him. "Thank you Alfred. You're so sweet."

"I am not!"

America huffily walks back to his bedroom and starts pulling out clothes. He's almost compiled an outfit when he smacks his forehead. What was he doing? He didn't have anywhere to go at all! He had said that to make Russia leave. So now what was he supposed to do? Go walk around like an idiot for a few hours and hope when he got back Russia had left?

'Total fail, Alfred Jones, what were you thinking?' He continues to mentally chew himself out. Why did Russia have to distract him by mentioning movies? That tricky bastard!

America dresses as quickly as he possibly can and continues to get ready as if he was actually leaving. Damn it, why did he have to leave his own house just to get away from Russia? This was totally lame.

America walks into the living room. Russia looks away from the movie and smiles. "Goodbye, have a good day Alfred. I enjoyed seeing you."

America rolls his eyes. "I bet you did."

He's about to leave to go find a place to waste four or five hours when the movie catches his attention. This was a good part. He stands frozen, watching it. Russia looks up with a sly, knowing look. "Didn't you say you had somewhere you urgently needed to go?"

America barely hears him. "Right, right..."

He takes a step forward then continues to stare. Oh, the scene that was coming up was one of his favorites! It couldn't hurt to stay a moment longer to watch it...

"Actually I suppose I exaggerated a bit. It wouldn't hurt if I did it later. I can stay just a little bit longer." He walks over to the couch and plops down.

Russia seals a laugh behind his lips. Ridiculous boy, catching himself in his own lies then explaining them away so poorly. Still, even though Russia knew America liked movies he didn't realize he liked them this much. Perhaps next time he came to visit he would make a gift of some of his favorites. It would not hurt Alfred to have some more of his movies in that collection of his. Particularly if such a large part of his foreign film section was from Japan.

As 'a little bit longer' stretches into the second movie Russia picked out, Russia finds his attention divided between whats on the screen and Alfred. He got so into them it was terribly amusing. America had already started talking about how the movie they were currently watching was actually the first of a trilogy and just maybe he would be courteous and allow him to stay long enough to watch the other two.

Very cautiously Russia has put his arm on the couch behind Alfred. He doesn't quite dare to actually put his arm around the younger nation's shoulders but it wasn't too far off. Sitting so close together watching movies, it felt... well it felt a lot like how some of those websites described that thing called 'quality time' which was supposedly pretty important. Not quite a date but just as good apparently. Russia is pleased with himself. Though not perfect, this particular visit had gone very successfully and he feels that much closer to achieving his goal.

~.

Russia stands in the doorway. The day has faded into late afternoon and as much as he would have liked to stay his cover story would start to unwind if he was gone too incredibly long. "Thank you for letting me stay. I had fun."

America is still trying to figure out how he had ended up watching so many movies with the Russian. "Uh, yeah... Don't drop in unexpectedly like that ever, ever again. It's fucking creepy. And stop sending so many flowers! They're a pain when there are so many."

Russia chooses to ignore the first half of the comment. "Right, I will keep that in mind and wait for longer stretches to send them."

"You're totally missing the point!"

"Goodbye Alfred! I'll see you soon." Russia kisses his finger and presses it against America's cheek. America takes a step back into his house and slams the door shut then locks it. Russia chuckles to himself. Ah, was it possible? He actually feels happy. Today was good. Today was very good.

Meanwhile America starts to pace, thinking of ways to Russia-proof his house.

* * *

**AN:** I chose to do the movie thing because frankly the U.S. has a historical insane love for movies. When people were flat broke during the Great Depression they still went to the theater after all. And my apologies if you think America is a huge idiot but I love him that way *laughs*


	12. Chapter 12

Italy practically skips up the walkway to Germany's house. He was starting to miss him so he had called and begged for a visit. Besides, all those strange things Russia had said were starting to worry him.

Ah, but of course he didn't really have anything to be concerned about right? Prussia was Germany's brother after all. That would be like someone saying there was something odd between him and Romano.

Instead of knocking Italy invites himself in. After all, he had been here tons of times, Germany wouldn't mind. He has opened his mouth to loudly announce his arrival when he hears something that makes him bite it back.

"Oh come on West, don't be so shy!"

Italy stands in the hallway hesitantly. However, from where he stands he can't pick up the lower, calmer tones of Germany's voice. Swallowing hard he walks towards the direction of the voices. It's easy to find the exact room when Prussia speaks again.

"Don't say that, you know you-"

More faint mumbling.

"Oh you like it and you know it! Hahaha! Look at your face!"

Another pause as Germany speaks, something that sounds like 'stop.'

"Come on West, just a small one."

Italy peeks into the room, hiding behind the door. Germany is standing with a book in his hand, determinedly trying to ignore his brother. Prussia is on his tip toes, arms around Germany's neck. Germany is blushing bright red while Prussia wears the face of the devil.

"East, I said no, please don't..."

Prussia strains to pull Germany's face closer. "Come on, one kiss for your loving big brother! Make it good and I might leave you alone."

"N-no! I said no already."

"Are you saying you don't love me? How cruel! Who the hell raised you, you ungrateful brat? I'm the reason you're so tall and manly! And now you hate me after all that care and devotion I showed you. What a terrible little brother!"

Germany looks pained. "That's not true bruder... I just..."

"Then prove it with your mouth!"

Germany flinches. "But..."

Prussia starts to tug Germany down to meet his lips. "That's a good boy. Prepare for some awesome mouth to mouth sibling bonding time, ja!"

Germany closes his eyes tightly when Italy suddenly yells out. "Germany! Italy has arrived! Are you in here?"

He bursts into the room with invigorating cheer, as if he hadn't seen or heard a thing. Prussia releases Germany and beams at Italy. Germany seems embarrassed and relieved by the interruption. "A-ah, Guten Tag Italy."

"Ciao! Long time no see Germany! How are you?"

Before Germany can answer Prussia cuts in. "Hey there Italy! Looking cute as usual!"

Even as he beams at Italy his arm is wrapped casually around Germany. Italy stares at him for a moment, an unfamiliar feeling welling up inside of him. "U-um... please I need to make a phone call. I'll be right back."

Germany sighs as Italy leaves the room. "That was too close. Stop acting so irresponsible East."

Prussia pulls his arm away and jabs him hard in the ribs. "You should seriously hook me up on a date with him, he's so cute!"

Germany crosses his arms. "Absolutely not. Someone like you is out of the question."

Prussia growls. "Hey, what is that supposed to mean someone like me?!"

Meanwhile Italy has ducked into another room. He is overcome with gloom and a sudden sharp feeling of opposition towards Prussia. What should he do...?

"I know! Russia...I'll call Russia! Maybe he's figured out what to do about rivals..." Italy pulls out his phone and dials, tears in his eyes.

~.

Russia tries to eat, attempting to ignore the unnerving stare of his sister. "It's good, right? I made it just for you big brother."

"Y-yes, it's really good. Th-thank you."

Belarus sits on the ground next to his chair and leans against the arm, looking up at him. "Big brother, what happened to your lip?"

The food pauses halfway to his mouth. "H-huh?"

Belarus narrows her eyes and starts to lean up. "Your lip. It looks like it's hurt. Almost like someone bit it..."

Russia's heart stops. "U-uh, uh no! Of course someone didn't bite it! I- I got in a fight today and this is from getting punched."

Belarus starts to dig her fingers into the chair's arm, the material threatening to rip. "Oh I see. Because if I thought someone's mouth had touched yours and it wasn't mine I would be angry. So very angry I might not be able to control myself."

Russia watches in horror as her nails pierce through the chair cover. "W-well that's what happened! N-nothing like that, don't worry."

"Then who hit you? Just tell me big brother and I'll gut them like a fish!"

Russia begins to look around in a panic. "It's okay really! Please don't Natalya! I took care of it, it's nothing!"

Belarus grabs his sleeve. "Tell me big brother! I'll do something dreadful to them for hurting my beloved brother!"

Suddenly Russia's phone begins to ring, much to his intense relief. He squeaks, "I have to take this!"

Answering the phone, he quickly stands up, Belarus's eyes following him like a hawk. "Y-yes?"

"Russia, Russia! Is that you?"

Russia raises his eyebrows. It was Italy and he seemed to be crying. Not that a crying Italy was something rare. "Yes it's me."

He starts to inch his way to the door, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. Italy sniffles on the other side. "I don't know what to do! You were right! P-Prussia is... he was trying to kiss... to kiss... Waaah! What should I do?"

Oh, that. "Shhh calm down Italy. Don't cry."

Italy dulls his crying to a dull whimper. "I-I'm sorry but I never thought... I mean I never thought I would have... c-competition. Especially from his brother! I always sort of had it in mind that no one would be very interested in him because he's so strict and can seem kind of intimidating or mean at times."

Russia tries to think of how to console him. No one ever called him when they needed emotional advice or support. "I'm really sorry Italy. I wish I could go back in time and properly destroy him for you."

"Huh? N-no that's alright Russia! I just... What do you think I should do?"

"Um... are you still opposed to torture?"

"Ve?! Y-yes! I don't want to torture him! I just... I just don't want him in the way, hogging my Germany!"

Russia can't help but smile at the words. Ah, possessiveness. He understands that feeling. "Well why don't you just win Germany over and then you won't have to worry about it."

There's a beat of hesitation. "But I don't know how... I know Germany said we were friends but I don't know how else he might feel about me."

"Oh that doesn't matter in the least," Russia says dismissively. "You can worry about how he feels about you afterwards."

Italy sounds confused. "What? Isn't that kind of backwards? Well... if you say so... Um... Oh I know! Russia, how about we do a double date?"

Russia tilts his head. "Double date?"

"Yeah, I'll invite Germany and America and we can eat dinner together. It can even be a surprise! Do you want to Russia?" The cheer has returned to Italy's voice.

"I-I've never done something like that before... What should I do?"

Italy laughs. "Oh you don't have to do anything Russia! It's just dinner. All you have to do is show up. I'll invite America too, so don't tell him. Let's plan it for next week okay?"

It would count as a second date with Alfred and he could tell Belarus he was going to a business lunch with Italy and Germany—best to leave out any mention of America just in case—to go over some policies. Sounded perfect. "Da, I'm in."

"Great! I should probably go now. Thank you Russia, I feel so much better! It was good talking to you, I'll give you more details later. Bye!"

Russia says goodbye and stares at his phone. Italy said he, Ivan, had made him feel better. That it was good talking to him. He blushes happily.

And really, a double date with America sounded like a lot of fun...

~.

Russia's special love attack, week two:

America looks at the hickey and frowns. It was starting to fade but it lingered, refusing to completely disappear.

"Stupid thing," he mutters as he puts a glow-in-the-dark bandaid over it. It was finally small enough he didn't have to wrap his whole neck.

Things were definitely calming down. Most of the world had formed an uneasy acceptance of the situation. Plus Russia hadn't made any more big to-dos about it thank god which had helped cut the publicity. He still got some stupid calls and he knows his boss was still handling it delicately with certain countries. The U.S. Press was still beating it like a dead horse but that was just their way. It would continue to be brought up for probably a month or two before they finally tired of it. Unless he got lucky and another big celebrity died. They had been dropping like flies lately.

England was doing much better, though he still needed a lot of help. At least he was becoming his usual nagging self again. Prussia had decided to be a pain in his ass. He had received an enormous box the other day. Thinking it was from Germany he had opened it and discovered a mountain of foreign articles and gossip magazines about his scandalous 'relationship' with Russia that Prussia had so thoughtfully gathered together and sent to him. All topped with the obnoxious message, '_Come see me some time, slut - Prussia_' He had spent half the night burning them all along with the stupid note.

As for Russia himself, he hadn't made any personal appearances. Which was almost a shame. America wanted to see if he had successfully made it impossible for him to break into his house again. He had just received various phone calls daily. At first he simply hung up but he found that it only caused the calls to multiply. Either that or Russia would fill up his voice mail with disturbing messages. If he let Russia simply speak for a few minutes, usually not about anything important, then he would only call once. And he didn't even have to say anything usually. Russia literally talked the whole time then said goodbye. Weirdo.

America's phone rings and he answers without a second thought. He had stopped avoiding calls, as it only caused more problems when he did. "Your hero speaking."

"America! Is that you? It's Italy."

A call from Italy? "Oh? What can I do ya for?"

"Huh? Um... I wanted to know if you would like to come over to my place for dinner tomorrow. I'm serving lots of really tasty food!"

This sounded too good. There had to be some kind of catch. "And what do you want in exchange?"

"Nothing, I promise! I just thought it would be fun to have you over for dinner. You just have to come and I'll provide everything."

Lucky! Italy made damn good food. And the best part, it was for free! "Hell yeah I'll come! Just give me the details.

"Great!" He tells America all the important information.

"Thanks a lot Italy. I feel like people have mostly been avoiding me as of late."

"Oh? I'm sorry to hear that. Well tomorrow will be a delicious meal in which we can drown our sorrows!"

"Alright!"

The two of them say goodbye and America punches the air. Awesome! It had been too long since he had a decent meal cooked for him. Of course he would always love his food best—the hamburger was practically a sacred food—but he loved it when other people made him stuff. He is very much looking forward to it.

~.

America and Germany stare at each other blankly, wondering what in hell the other one is doing there. America laughs awkwardly. "Er...Hey Germany. Nice seeing you again..."

"Y-yeah..."

Germany looks at the bandaid on his neck and averts his gaze immediately, ears turning red. America coughs. "Your brother... Could you tell him he better not send me 'care packages' anymore? I don't think it's very funny."

"Care packages...? Of what?"

America coughs again and the mood becomes painfully awkward.

Italy suddenly bursts into the room. "Germany, Germany! Look I remembered to put pants on first!"

Germany pinches the bridge of his nose. "That should be a given, not something you brag about."

He beams at them. "I'm so glad you could both come today! We just have to wait for our final guest and we can eat. I wonder where he is? Anyway I made lots of tasty foods today! I hope you're both super hungry."

Suddenly the doorbell rings and Italy bounces up excitedly on his toes. "That's him! I'll be right back."

He flounces off towards the front door. America and Germany look at each other. "Do you have any idea who else he invited?"

Germany shakes his head. "To be honest I didn't exactly expect you to be here either..."

America raises an eyebrow. "No need to sound so disappointed."

Germany's cheeks turn pink. "I just wasn't expecting it, that's all."

"Come right this way, the others are already here!" The door opens and the two of them look up. Italy walks in with Russia by his side. "Great, we're all here now! Who's hungry?"

America lets out an odd hiccup of panic. What was Russia doing here!?

* * *

**AN: **Behold, a sublplot! -laughs-


	13. Chapter 13

Behold, the first update of the new year! 2010 already, hard to believe... Congrats to InsaneChickofWriting for getting 200th review and receiving the one shot Growing Pains. Good luck to everyone for 300th review! -laughs-

* * *

As Russia catches sight of America he waves cheerfully. "Alfred~!"

America takes a step backwards, mouth setting into a frown. He points at him. "What is he doing here?"

Italy's eyebrows raise in surprise. "E-eh? Well I invited him of course."

"Why?" He asks in a rather flat voice.

Italy is a bit confused. America seems oddly unhappy to see Russia. "Oh, because... well..."

Italy blushes, glancing at Germany for a second. He doesn't want to blurt out that this was supposed to be a double date. "B-because we're friends!"

Germany seems surprised by the news. America feels himself sinking into a pit of despair. So it had been a trap! He never would have suspected Italy either. Since when were the two of them friends? Unless Russia was perhaps threatening Italy to make him do this. By the way Germany has started to narrow his eyes America has the feeling he is thinking the same thing. But why was Germany here? Something about this seemed very strange. Actually all of this seemed very strange. What was Russia planning?

Russia walks forward. "Alfred, may I speak to you for just a moment in private?"

There was no way he was going to get caught alone with him. He opens his mouth to say so when Germany puts a firm hand on his shoulder and pushes him forward. "If you go through there and close the door you will have more than enough privacy."

America turns to look at him. He had sold him out! Germany gives him a harsh look that screams 'Do it or pay.'

Suddenly it clicks as Germany gives a meaningful look to Italy. Of course, if he was talking to Russia then Germany could speak privately to Italy to find out if Russia was using him. Unhappy to be the distraction but understanding his motive, America stands up straight. If he had to be a sacrifice he would be a brave sacrifice.

"Fine," he says sharply. "Let's talk."

Russia beams happily at him and the two of them leave the room. Russia closes the door tightly behind them. "My, you came without causing even the slightest scene. We really are making progress."

America crosses his arms. "So what do you have to say?"

Russia puts his hands on America's shoulders. "Don't mention your oppositions to our relationship. Not a single peep, understand?"

America glowers up at him. "What relationship?"

Russia tightens his grip his face bordering on a scary expression. "I wish you wouldn't say things like that. It cuts me to the bone. As far as they are concerned we are lovers and it's only a matter of time before it's true so don't give them ideas that this might not be the case. Especially to Italy."

America picks up on this segue to Italy. "What's up with Italy? How did you get him to do this?"

A puzzled look replaces Russia's current expression. "...Get him to do what?"

With a wild wave of his hand to gesture to himself, America snaps, "Invite me here! And I dunno, maybe Germany too unless he's actually in on it. What did you do to make him invite me?"

Russia giggles. "Oh this wasn't my idea at all, it was Italy's."

~.

Germany stares intensely at Italy, hands on his shoulders. "Are you absolutely sure this was your idea?"

Italy frowns up at him, confused. "Yes, of course! Why would you even ask? I invited all of you didn't I?"

"Are you positive that Russia didn't talk you into this?"

Italy shakes his head. "No, it was all me. Russia just agreed to come."

Germany lowers his voice. "If he is threatening you I promise I will protect you. You can tell me anything Italy. You'll be safe."

"Ve? What do you mean if he's threatening me? What makes you think this is his idea anyway?"

"Well it's just that... You were always so afraid of Russia in the past and suddenly the two of you are friends..."

Plus Russia had wanted Germany to give him Italy in the past, meaning he was doubly suspicious.

Italy smiles and shakes his head. "Oh no, not anymore! Russia isn't so scary. He's actually pretty shy. I like him a lot. You shouldn't say mean things about him!"

Germany is taken aback. Was it possible this was the truth then? Italy seems determined to defend him...

Then why was he here?

~.

"It was Italy's idea? Why then?"

Russia glances back at the door. "It's a double date. He's going to attempt to make Germany his lover just like what I'm doing."

America stares at Russia. If this was true then the poor bastard didn't stand a chance. "So he's going to start stalking him and sending him weird poems in Russian and a million sunflowers?"

"Oh, so you did get the poem. How did you like it?"

"Yes, yesterday. I didn't understand a word of it."

"No? Because you couldn't read it or because you're simply too shallow to appreciate poetry?"

America shakes his head. "Hey! This isn't about if I like stupid Russian poetry I can't read! It's about Italy and this 'double date' thing! What's that all about?"

Russia tilts his head. "Mm, I think he's timid about it and needs emotional support. That's why you can't make it all about you for once. Just play nice and enjoy the food."

"That's stupid! Why should I have to do that?"

"Don't you want him to be happy? It's rather selfish of you when he really likes Germany very much."

America juts his chin out. "Well what if Germany doesn't like him?"

Russia raises an eyebrow. "Either way doesn't Italy deserve a chance?"

America looks at Russia shrewdly. "This feels like a trick question."

Russia grabs his chin. "Don't cause problems or I will punish you again. Understand darling?"

An involuntary shiver goes down America's spine. It seems his body had come to fear what this implied. For good reason, he thinks irritatedly.

He pulls away. "Hmph, well I have no idea what's up with what Italy is planning but as long as it doesn't directly involve me I won't cause any problems if you keep your damned hands to yourself! I just want to eat some Italian food and go home, understand?"

Russia smiles softly. "Fair enough."

Rubbing the back of his neck, America turns towards the door. "Seriously, this better not be some bizarre trick Russia."

Russia leans forward and pinches America's arm hard. "Ouch! What was that for you bastard?"

"I decided to try positive and negative reinforcement on you. If you call me Russia I will cause you physical discomfort. If you call me Ivan you will be rewarded."

This had to be some kind of bad dream. "Don't you dare pinch me!"

Russia puts his arm around America's shoulders and starts leading him back towards the door. "Oh it's going to happen. Do keep that in mind next time you have to say my name."

~.

When the two emerge Germany looks thoughtfully at Russia. Russia simply smiles back. Germany's gaze slides to America who carefully tries to avoid it. Just what the hell was he supposed to tell him when he himself doesn't understand what is going on? If Germany happened to like Italy then this would all work out for the best. If not, well... Germany could probably get rid of Italy a lot more easily then he could get rid of Russia. No wait, what was he thinking? Wasn't it his heroic duty to warn Germany? Technically Russia had just said he couldn't do anything that suggested they weren't a couple. Even though they most certainly were not. That meant he could tell Germany right? This was so confusing! Stupid Italy...

America glares at him for a second then looks away quickly when Italy turns his head in his direction. Germany frowns when he sees this. What was going on?

Italy leads them to a table set for four, chatting cheerfully with Russia. Germany and America are silent, uneasy observers. All Germany wants is a moment alone to talk to America and all America wants is some damn food and a long vacation.

Italy seats America and Russia next to one another, placing Germany to the left of his own seat. "Let me grab the food and we can start! Um, I- I need some help..."

Germany opens his mouth to volunteer when Italy cuts him off. "Can you help me Russia?"

Russia stands. "Of course."

Germany is surprised that he has asked Russia instead of him. It only lasts a moment. This was the perfect opportunity to speak with America. Once the two of them have left the room Germany leans over across the table. "Italy claims this was all his idea and he seemed pretty insistent on it. I still don't know what to think."

America frowns, trying to sort out his thoughts. Why should he let Russia control him in the least anyway? He decides to tell Germany how it is as he has interpreted it. "No, I'm pretty sure it was Italy's idea for sure at this point. Though I can say I wouldn't be surprised if Russia somehow had a hand in all of this."

Germany had thought as much. "I see... So what is the point of this?"

America shakes his head, picking up his fork and twirling it on the table. "All I know is it has nothing to do with me. I'm just an unwilling second party who wants some Italian food. I really feel for you though Germany. Don't worry, fight the good fight!"

Germany can't seem to grasp what America is talking about. Unwilling second party... fight the good fight... "What are you talking about America?"

With more energy than is needed, America dramatically points his fork in Germany's direction. "This is part of a plot against you spearheaded by Italy!"

Germany is completely speechless. A plot? Against him? Italy?

America gives him the thumbs up. "Your battle will be an easier one than mine. Don't worry too much about it."

Germany continues to stare at him blankly. This couldn't be serious. Italy was plotting against him?

~.

Italy precariously places a large platter in Russia's hand. "What should I say? Do I let on that this is supposed to be a date? What if I make him uncomfortable?"

Russia easily carries the weight of the two platters as Italy picks up a bottle of wine and a large bowl of tossed salad. "Mm... Well... I can't say for sure, really, but I suppose you should let your intentions be known at some point. It gives him time to get used to the idea."

Italy blushes. "You think so? I don't know... I'm really nervous. Wehhh what do I do? I want him to like me but I'm afraid he only thinks of me as a friend."

Now that they were friends, Russia wants Italy to be happy. He wonders if he should let Italy know he's willing to go to certain lengths to guarantee Germany's affections for him. But he has a feeling Italy would object to them. Maybe he could try that encouragement thing?

"Well, I guess you could look at it this way. Germany and yourself have a very long established, close relationship already correct? America is someone with whom I have shared much hostility for a long time and we are now together. Don't you think you must have a fairly decent chance?"

Italy perks up. "I hadn't thought of that... Thanks Russia! I think I can do it."

Russia becomes distant. "Yes, if you want something bad enough you can make it work. You have to be able to... It has to work."

Italy tilts his head. Russia suddenly seems a bit troubled. "Ve? Something the matter Russia?"

Russia brightens. "No, nothing. Shall we then?"

Italy nods, smiling. "Right!"

~.

Germany's head is spinning. Surely there must be some sort of misunderstanding... Italy couldn't possibly be plotting against him. He had to ask America if he knew anything else while he had the chance.

Meanwhile America drums his fingers on the table. He had warned Germany of what was to come in a perfectly clear manner. At least as far as he's concerned he has. Now all he wants is to eat and try and escape before Russia tried anything funny with him. Reward for a good deed. After all, what Italy did was none of his business if he was just trying to seduce Germany or something. Suddenly America starts cracking up. Sure Italy was supposed to be a damn good lover but he was just so clueless.

Startled, Germany slams his hands on the table, standing as he does so. "What about this situation is funny?"

America shakes his head, shoulders shaking violently. "C-can you imagine Italy tr-trying to be sexy?"

A blush immediately spreads across Germany's cheeks. "Wh-what does that have to do with anything?"

Before America can answer he gets a mental image of Italy on a bed almost completely naked winking and saying, "Hello lover. Ve~"

He starts to laugh so hard he can't breath. It was too hilarious. Confused and flustered, Germany just stares at him as if he's insane. Maybe he was. He was with Russia wasn't he?

America doubles over with laughter. "H-hell-hello lover! Oh God I could die!"

"America! Calm yourself at once!" Germany finally barks, patience snapping.

But America can't stop. It was just too much. Something about the image has really sent him into complete hysterics. He slides out of his chair and starts banging on the seat.

Italy and Russia walk in, looking at America curiously. Italy turns to Germany. "Ve? Did you tell him a really funny joke Germany?"

Germany glares over the table at the laughing American. "I have no idea what is wrong with him! He's completely mad!"

Russia walks up closer to America, setting the platters down. "Alfred, what are you doing?"

America looks up at him and suddenly imagines Russia much as he had imagined Italy, mostly naked and saying in a sing-song voice, "Hello lover. Kolkolkol!"

He snorts loudly and bangs the chair until the wood cracks. "I'm going to die! I c-can't breath! Oh my God that's the funniest thing in the w-w-world!"

Russia doesn't know what America is talking about but he doesn't much like being laughed at. America falls over onto the ground and holds his sides. "I-it hurts! It's so f-funny! H-hello lover! Oh God, hello lover!"

Russia crouches down next to him and says in a very soft voice, "If you don't stop right now I am going to release more of Japan's photos to the press."

This kills the laughter pretty quickly. America finally regains control of himself, breathing hard. He sits up and removes his glasses, wiping tears from his eyes. Despite Russia's warning a smile is still plastered on his face. "Sorry, killjoy. It was a funny mental image that's all."

America puts Texas back on and takes one final deep breath. "Well, shall we eat then?"

Russia frowns thoughtfully at him. "What was a funny mental image?"

America looks from him to a very confused Italy to a very irritated Germany. In his head it had been hilarious. The thought of saying it out loud however made it seem a lot more... well, embarrassing and awkward. "Er...Nothing."

"...Nothing. You laughed that hard over nothing."

America nods. Russia reaches over and pinches him. "Ouch!"

He rubs his arm and glares at Russia, who simply stands and smiles at the still confused Italy and irritated Germany. "We don't want the food to get cold do we?"

Italy looks around at everyone, not sure what had just happened. "E-eh? Um... No I suppose not."

Italy nervously smiles over at Germany who looks rather lost and not very happy about it. When Germany catches sight of Italy he starts to smile then stops halfway and sits down, eyes on the table. The gesture takes Italy off guard. Had he done something wrong? No it must just be his imagination.

Russia helps Italy finish setting the table and they start dishing themselves up. Germany takes everything with some hesitation. There wouldn't be anything wrong with it would there? And every time he has to remind himself everyone is eating off the same dishes so of course not.

Frustrated he finally tells himself, 'Don't be ridiculous! America is either trying to mislead me or I have misunderstood what he meant. Italy wouldn't possibly turn against me!'

But what if Russia had...

The seed of doubt refuses to be shaken completely.

America, blissfully unaware of what he has done with his careless words eats enthusiastically. This was the only reason he was here so he might as well enjoy it.

Italy shyly looks over at Germany. Something seems wrong with him... He gently reaches over to touch his arm. "Germany, is everything-"

Germany jerks away from his touch then looks startled by his own action. "S-sorry."

Italy pulls back, hurt, and eats silently. Russia watches this take place then looks at the clueless America. Somehow this was his fault.

Russia turns to Germany. "So what were the two of you talking about while we were in the kitchen?"

Germany pauses. "N-nothing. We weren't talking about anything."

America lowers his head and hopes Russia leaves him out of this. "...No? I think something must have triggered my darling Alfred's earlier reaction. I just want to know so I might have a clue as to what was so funny."

America cringes at Russia calming him 'his darling Alfred'. Germany shakes his head. "No. We were just... Sitting here."

Russia taps his fork against his plate lightly. "Well, I suppose it's believable that Alfred would start laughing like an idiot completely unprompted."

America's head snaps up. "Shut up Russia!"

Russia reaches over and pinches him, hard. "Ow! Would you cut that out?"

After a pause Italy asks very slowly. "Why do you keep pinching him?"

Russia smiles. "It's a game. Isn't it Alfred?"

America narrows his eyes at Russia. Before he can speak and get himself into more trouble the doorbell rings. Italy starts to stand up. "That's strange, I didn't invite anyone else... I'll be right back!"

He leaves the room and the three of them sit in uneasy silence. As Italy walks towards the door he sighs sadly. This wasn't going as well as planned. Russia and America seemed like they might be having a fight and Germany was acting strangely. He tries to make himself cheer up. A rocky start could be smoothed over.

Italy throws the door open widely. "Hello?"

Japan stands on the other side looking determined. "Konichiwa Italy. You said Russia was going to be here, correct? I need to see him if you don't mind."

* * *

**AN: **Hmmm this is going on longer than expected but the next part concludes the double date. Watching that was like seeing a train wreck in slow motion wasn't it? -laughs- America you fool!


	14. Chapter 14

Italy stares at Japan for a moment. "Ve? Er, sure Japan. Come in. We're having dinner together. Would you like to stay?"

Japan narrows his eyes. "You are having dinner with Russia-san?"

Italy nods cheerfully. "Yes! And Germany and America."

Japan relaxes. "Ah, I see. I would hate to intrude."

"Not at all Japan! You are among friends right?"

After a pause of thought Japan bows. "Thank you very much for the invitation. I will humbly accept."

Italy smiles. "Great! Follow me."

Maybe having someone else there would be a good thing. It might ease tensions. He leads Japan to the dining room. "Hey everyone, Japan is joining us! I'll go get you some silverware and a plate. You can go sit down at the end of the table near America and Germany alright?"

Italy hurries off to get things for Japan. Japan bows his head to everyone in the room and walks to the place Italy had directed. America waves cheerfully as he sits down. It was nice to see a friendly face that wasn't involved in this mess. "Hey Kiku! Fancy seeing you here!"

Russia frowns severely at the use of Japan's human name. He reaches over and grabs America's chair, dragging it closer to his own.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?" America asks, startled.

Russia pats his head fondly. "Nothing."

Japan purses his lips at Russia then lowers his eyes. "Greetings America-san. Germany-san. ...Russia-san."

Germany wonders if Japan is somehow part of this as well. "Hallo. What are you doing here Japan?"

Japan's eyes slide once more to Russia. "I had heard that Russia-san would be here from Italy-san. He has something of mine that I would like back."

Russia raises an eyebrow and examines a piece of pasta. "I'm afraid I don't intend to give you back the Kuril islands anytime soon."

Japan's cheeks flush with anger. "That... is not what I was referring to. My camera Russia-san. I have been trying to contact you for weeks and you have not responded. I would like the camera you stole at the World Conference back."

Russia yawns. "Oh that. I don't exactly have it on me."

"I did not assume that you would. However, I think that now-"

Italy pops in. "Here Japan! Feel free to take as much as you want!"

"Thank you very much Italy-san." As he starts to dish up some food he continues to address Russia. "I think now is a good time to arrange for you to return it to me. If you would like you may even mail it, but I would like it back."

With a dismissive wave of the hand Russia responds, "Very well. I will find a time to return it that is convenient to me."

Japan narrows his eyes with deep dislike then turns to the food. "Itadakimasu. Thank you for the food Italy."

Ignoring the silverware given to him, he pulls out a pair of chopsticks and starts to twirl spaghetti noodles around them. "How have you been America-san? I have not had an opportunity to speak with you lately. Understandably with this risqué mess you find yourself in."

America sighs. "Not well. I've developed a chronic headache and I don't sleep well at night."

Japan raises his eyebrows slightly. "Ah, how unfortunate. I can't help but wonder what could possibly be causing these grievances against you."

His eyes flicker up and meet Russia's for the briefest moment before he turns to Germany. "And how do you fare Germany-san?"

Germany looks around the table uncomfortably. "I suddenly seem to find myself with something on my mind."

Italy looks at him with concern. Japan nods. "I do hope you find peace of mind in the near future. And yourself Italy-san?"

Germany pauses in his eating, waiting for the answer to see if it can give him any clue of if he should be worried. Italy blushes softly. "I... I have a problem I am on my way to fixing."

Problem? Germany wonders if he's the problem. If so, how?

Gently patting his mouth with a napkin, Japan faces the table with a blank face. "It would seem all of us are not faring so well recently my friends."

There is an awkward pause. Italy finally laughs nervously. "S-so, Japan what have you been up to?"

America almost chokes on a piece of ravioli. It hadn't even occurred to him before. He looks around the table, deaf to the conversation. He was sitting at a table with the former Axis of evil! Of course that was a long time ago but how did that look? Suspicious, that's how it looked! They weren't in public or anything... but satellites, what if a satellite was spying on them right this moment and wondering what the former axis was doing assembled? There was no way he could let himself be associated with that!

America stands abruptly. "You are all healed in the name of Democracy!"

Everyone turns to him with questioning looks. Suddenly Russia begins to giggle. "Isn't he adorable?"

America sits down slowly. "...Just so anyone who might be listening knows."

With that he slumps down and tries to hide himself in his plate. Russia smiles at him, amused.

The dinner continues with strained conversation and many awkward pauses. Italy tilts his head and looks over at Germany. He wishes he knew what to say. He was already nervous but Germany's strange behavior is making it especially difficult to read the situation. Maybe this hadn't been good timing. Or maybe he shouldn't have hidden the fact that there would be multiple people? And Japan and Russia seemed to be glaring daggers at each other now. Italy sighs softly to himself. This is why he never took the initiative.

Japan coughs softly. "So America-san. Your relationship with Russia-san has really caused you many problems. My brothers have been quite hostile about it, have they not? I can not help but think it must put a lot of pressure on you to end it."

Russia starts tapping his fork against his plate, eyes hardening. America wonders why no one will leave him alone. This is the last time he would ever accept an invitation to eat at someone else's house ever again. So the choices seemed to be break his silence and establish that he in fact is not Russia's lover and undoubtedly face his wrath or play along with the lie and admit defeat. Both sound like they suck. Well, better to have his honor. He would just have to take whatever Russia threw at him.

He opens his mouth, not noticing the way Russia's fingers twitch as he awaits his answer, when Italy cuts in. "I think it's unfair how much people have been attacking their relationship! What's wrong with it? If they really love each other than they should be together!"

America feels his headache creeping out of its corner. 'Please don't defend the honor of my nonexistent relationship Italy, please, don't. It's painful to listen to.'

To his horror, Italy continues. "Well don't you think so? We have all witnessed countless tragic events, gone through so much pain... So what's wrong when two of our kind finally find some happiness? Love is the most beautiful thing in the entire world! They aren't the ones who should be ashamed. And I personally will defend their relationship completely!"

Germany stares at Italy. He feels so conflicted it hurts.

America wants to sink into the floor. He bets Russia is horribly pleased with Italy's outburst. He glances over despite his better judgment, prepared to burst out angrily against this slander the second he sees Russia's smug face. What he sees and what he expects are not even close. He hadn't expected the surprised, slightly touched expression. Russia looks like he might actually have a soul for a second.

Much like America, Japan is speechless. He finally clears his throat. "I apologize. I did not intend for that to come out as rude. Please do forgive me America-san."

Russia knows he's lying through his teeth. America is still wishing they weren't talking about this. "Of course you didn't. You were just stating a fact. Can we change the subject?"

Russia responds. "No. Let us talk about how this has caused me problems as well. Just as many as you. I am not complaining but do not ever assume you are the only one suffering for this relationship."

"But you-"

America cuts himself off. He doesn't get it. If it was really such a hassle for Russia why did he continue then? He could stop at any time. He knows he could stop at any moment.

Germany finally speaks up. "I think this is rather inappropriate dinner conversation no matter how you look at it. Personal matters are not to be discussed when you have been invited as a guest in someone else's home. It is simply rude and Italy has obviously worked very hard on this so-"

Germany catches himself. "So...perhaps go to another room if you are having an issue."

Italy immediately perks up. Germany was acting like he normally did and defending him. The feeling is short lived. Germany looks around uncomfortably then pushes his chair back. "Well I think I really must be going. ...Thank you for having me Italy. America, Russia, Japan, nice seeing you."

Italy's face falls. "G-Germany, w-wait!"

Russia frowns at the retreating Germany. "Italy, follow him!"

Italy looks torn for a moment then nods and hurries after him. Russia sighs then turns on America. "What did you do you stupid fool?"

America's jaw drops. "Me!? Excuse me, I did nothing but eat Italian food!"

"I know you said something to Germany that made him act strangely. Did you tell him Italy's plan?"

"No, I didn't tell him as a matter of fact."

Russia scowls at him. "Fine, don't admit it. I'm still doing this because I know you did."

He gives America's cheek a fierce pinch. "OW!"

Japan watches all of this take place, very puzzled.

Russia points towards the door. "Go fix it."

America opens his mouth to protest and Russia reaches out to pinch him again. He pulls away violently. "Fine! Jesus, I'm going. Fucking can't get a break."

He walks off, muttering under his breath.

Russia leans his head on his hand and looks at Japan. "So. Your camera... I think I would like to arrange to give it back to you personally."

Overflowing with suspicion, Japan proceeds cautiously. "That is not necessary."

Russia smiles, something dark flickering underneath. "I insist."

After a long pause of thought Japan finally bows his head in a single shallow nod. "Very well then. If you insist."

~.

Italy catches Germany at the door. "G-Germany, is something the matter? Please tell me!"

The look of concern on Italy's face softens him a bit. How could Italy ever be plotting against him? Still, it would be foolish to simply come out and ask. Perhaps he could simply indirectly try to handle the situation. "I-Italy... You are a very...dear friend to me... And that's how we'll remain isn't it?"

As his face starts to become red he turns away, missing the deflated look Italy gets. Was that a hint from Germany that he only wanted to stay friends? "...O-of course Germany. Friends... We'll always be friends."

It hurts to say it.

The words put Germany at ease. "I'm glad. Thank you Italy. I...I'll see you soon."

Italy nods. "Sì... Thank you for coming. Arrivederci Germany."

"Auf Wiedersehen Italy."

Italy waves, barely able to keep his smile intact until he closes the door. He leans his forehead against it and tears up.

"Yo, Italy. Did Germany already leave? I guess I sorta need to say something to him because apparently somehow I did something wrong."

Startled, Italy takes a second to turn around, a small smile tacked into place. "Ve? Well I'm sure you didn't do anything wrong America. Besides he's gone now."

America debates this for a moment. It didn't really seem like anything was wrong so maybe it had worked itself out?

"I see. Well, I guess it wasn't a big deal. Thanks for the food, it was pretty good. Maybe I should be going now." It was an excellent time to escape undetected after all.

However, Italy remains in his way. "U-um America... are you and Russia having a fight? I know it isn't really any of my business but it just seemed like it was a bit tense."

America sighs in disgust. "Well I guess you could say the two of us disagree on a very big, important point. It's an ongoing argument."

"I'm sorry to hear that... I hope you can work through it! The two of you make an adorable couple."

America feels like he might be ill. Him and Russia... an adorable couple!? Was Italy high?

Italy's smile brightens. "You really bring out the cute side of Russia too. He's so playful with you, and he gets so flustered and shy when he talks about your relationship. Oh, I hope it's okay I'm talking about this!"

America stares at him in disbelief. Was he really talking about Russia? There was no way. Cute? Playful? Shy? Flustered? These were not words synonymous with Russia.

America waves his arms. "I think you misunderstand Italy. He's not really like that at all."

Italy tilts his head. "Ve? Does he hide it from you? He shouldn't. It might help you work out your problem if the two of you are completely open with each other. Um, but I really think... America, I think you're probably really good for him."

The words have a rather undesirable effect on America. The itching starts between his shoulders with a vengeance. He tries to ignore it. "N-no I'm not... I mean I haven't done anything."

Italy pats his arm. "You're being oddly humble. Maybe he's good for you too! Ah...I really envy the two of you. You're so lucky to get to be together..."

America is close to finally losing it and blurting out that he and Russia aren't a couple when Japan and Russia enter the room. Japan bows to Italy. "Thank you for allowing me to intrude upon you. I will have to make it up to you in the future. And America-san, I would like to visit with you sometime. Let me know a convenient time for you."

America smiles and gives him a thumbs up. "Sure thing Kiku. Nice seeing you."

Japan looks back at Russia briefly. "Do not forget our meeting time."

With that he leaves the house. Russia looks at Italy and America. "Where is Germany?"

Italy fidgets. "He... went home."

Russia frowns. "...I need to talk to America alone for just a moment and then I will help you clean up, alright Italy?"

Italy looks up. "Ah, thank you Russia! You don't have to... Well, thank you very much for coming America! Goodbye."

America waves. "Sure, sure. See ya."

Italy slips from the room. Russia waits then smacks America in the back of the head. "I told you to fix it."

America rubs the back of his head then smacks Russia in the stomach. "Stop it! Look, I was going to but Germany had already left and I don't know what the big deal is! Italy seems fine and Germany seems fine."

"Your definition of fine is a poor one," Russia says dryly.

America puts his hands up helplessly. "Well excuse me. I really don't know what you want from me!"

Russia finally sighs. "Just forget it. You couldn't have less of a clue if you tried."

America buries his hands in his pocket. "Well, if that's all I'll be going. Italy and Germany are none the wiser about your lie, though the whole world will know this is a hoax someday soon!"

Russia clicks his tongue. "You certainly like to hear yourself talk. Before you go I have something for you."

Oh lord, who knew what horrors Russia would present him with. Russia reaches into his pocket then pulls something out. "Here. I... I don't know if you already have this one. If so I'm sorry. It's one of my favorites."

America cautiously takes it. It was a Russian movie. One he actually didn't own if his memory served him correctly. He's not sure how to respond. He hadn't been expecting something actually nice. "Ah...Thank you...This one is new."

Russia sounds relieved. "I'm glad. I wanted to give it to you... to thank you. Because of you I've been able to become friends with Italy. It means a lot to me."

America looks up and dear God Russia is actually blushing. So it was possible. America's face feels hot. "Er... No problem. I mean... it's not like I really did anything."

Russia shakes his head. "It doesn't matter... Ah, before I forget, I want to know what you were laughing about earlier."

America turns his head. "Let's not talk about that. Seriously."

Russia takes a step forward. "Why were you laughing at me?"

America shakes his head. "I wasn't..."

Russia grabs his arm and squeezes. "Why were you laughing at me?"

So much for Russia being cute- Oh no, no, no, no! He hadn't thought of Russia as cute! He looks around to see if the wall is close enough to bash his head into. It's not. Damn it. Stupid Italy putting words into his head!

Meanwhile Russia persists. "I promise I won't hurt you. Just tell me."

America wonders if he should tell Russia that he _is_ hurting him. His fingers were going to leave bruises if he squeezed much harder. "It was just something stupid that I imagined. You don't want to know!"

Russia pauses. "I hear England is still fairly indisposed at the moment."

America feels a flash of anger. "Leave him alone!"

Russia smiles, his voice smooth like oil. "I never said I would do anything to him. Just making small talk."

America grits his teeth. "Fine. If you really must know I just happened to imagine Italy trying to seduce Germany half-naked on a bed saying 'Hello lover. Ve~' and when you walked in for some ungodly reason I imagined you the same way except with that 'kolkolkol' thing at the end. It's not a big deal! Something stupid that just struck me as funny in the moment. So stop threatening people!"

Russia blinks in surprise. His hand slides away from America's arm and he just stares at him a moment. America glares up at him defiantly.

Russia reaches up slowly and pinches America again. "Fuck! Would you cut that out?!"

"That," He says softly, "is for imagining Italy. And this... is for imagining me."

He pulls America close, pressing their lips together quite suddenly. America's eyes widen in shock. "Mmph?!"

Russia pulls back, licking America's lip gently as he does so. "Your first reward."

America pushes him away and wipes his lips. "Wh-what was that for? All I did was imagine something stupid!"

Russia smiles happily. "But you were imagining me in a slightly erotic fashion, even if it amused you. That pleases me. So I gave you a reward. See what you may strive for?"

America bristles. "Like hell I'm going to strive for that! I'm getting out of here!"

Russia chuckles. "Very well. It was nice seeing you. This was our second official date. I read somewhere after the third date you are allowed to take your relationship to a new physical level. I shall be anticipating it greatly. Goodbye Alfred."

With that Russia turns and walks further into Italy's house. America slumps against the door, the strength leaving his legs. Even if it killed him he had to make sure Russia never took him on a third date, _ever_.

~.

Russia finds Italy sitting in one of the dining room chairs, a plate in one hand. He is sniffling softly. Russia walks over to him. "What's the matter Italy?"

Italy reaches over and grabs Russia's coat. "G-Germany just wants to be f-friends..."

And he begins to cry.

* * *

**AN: **The Kuril Islands, seized by Russia some time ago. They deported most of the Japanese citizens. At one point they offered to give back two of the smaller islands but because they only made up 7% of the total land mass lost, Japan refused. It's still a sore spot.


	15. Chapter 15

Hello~ So once again I would really like to thank everyone for the reviews, seriously. They make my day. And thanks in general to everyone who reads this little story of mine. I appreciate it!

* * *

Germany sits on his couch with a beer and lets out a long sigh. Today had been rather confusing and all he wants is some silence and time to mull everything over with his beer.

Prussia pops up from behind the couch and throws his arms around Germany's neck. "Hey West! So how was dinner? It was good wasn't it? You're such a dick for not taking me!"

Of course Germany was a fool to think about having a moment of peace. "Please East, not right now. I have something on my mind."

"Oh? What? Tell me so that I may give you awesome words of advice!" Prussia jumps over the couch, sitting far too close to Germany, and snatches his beer.

Germany gives him a disgruntled look. "It's nothing. I think I must have just had a misunderstanding with America. He gave me the impression that Italy was plotting against me but the more I think about it the more I realize that's just ridiculous. Italy would never-"

"Italy would totally do that!" Prussia cuts in.

"...Eh?"

Prussia takes a swig of the beer. "Don't you see? With his cute face you would never suspect it! He's the perfect assassin!"

Germany stares at him disbelievingly. "What are you talking about du Narr?

Prussia ignores him. "No worries bruder, I shall defend you with all my awesome might! If he comes around I won't leave you alone for a second! Now let's make out!"

Germany pushes his face away and snatches his beer back. "No."

Prussia leans over the couch, watching him walk away. "Aw, du bist kein Spaß, West. Is that any way to treat your protector?"

Germany just shakes his head. He would have to talk to Italy soon to clear this whole thing up but he would have to handle it delicately. Until he thought of what to say it might be best to avoid him.

~.

Russia's special love attack, week three:

America groans miserably as Russia lectures him for what feels like the millionth time. "It can't be that hard to fix whatever damage you did by saying something stupid to Germany."

America swirls in his chair. "You don't understand! I can't get a hold of Germany at all. Stupid Prussia always answers and refuses to hand me over to him. If it bothers you so much why don't you just talk to him yourself?"

America can imagine the irritated look on Russia's face simply by the tone of his voice across the phone line. "I told you, first of all Italy absolutely insists I do not try to contact Germany about it. Not only that but I don't know what you said to him because you refuse to tell me. Otherwise I would have done it already as I have no doubt I'd be much more competent at this then you. Secondly, you caused the problem in the first place and should take responsibility for once. Third, don't talk to that filth."

America pushes away from the desk, the chair gliding halfway across the room. "I told you, I can't get a hold of him! I tried his cell phone, his house phone, I even left a message with his boss. Guess who called me back? Prussia. It's like impossible right now! And I don't want to go see him. Do you know how weird it is to be around him after that shit you pulled at his house?"

"I don't care in the least. Be a man. If you don't take care of this soon I will and no one will be happy if I have to do it. No one."

America pinches the bridge of his nose. "Fine, I'll try calling again. Don't have a cow. And I am totally a man! I just don't see how this is my problem. If it's bugging Italy so much he should talk to Germany himself. This wouldn't be a problem if he came out and said what he wanted."

"Hmm. I might agree with that. Though it hasn't done much for me."

"I think we can agree that Germany and Italy's situation is a lot different than ours."

Russia giggles. "Oh I just love hearing you say 'ours' Alfred."

"I'm hanging up now!"

He snaps his phone shut and sighs, allowing his chair to go in slow circles for a minute before opening it again and looking for Germany's number. He dials it and winces as he waits for the grating voice he knows will answer.

"I'm starting to think you can't get enough of me America." This is followed by a loud cackle.

America groans. "Shut your idiot face Prussia. Let me talk to your brother!"

Prussia scoffs. "Why don't you admit that you're just calling to get off on my awesome voice mein kleiner Liebling?"

"I have no idea what you just said but fuck you! Look, I really have to talk to Germany."

"And what do you have to discuss with him?" Prussia asks tauntingly.

"As I've told you before, none of your damned business! Just put him on the phone already!"

Prussia makes an obviously fake thoughtful sound. "Well, I suppose I could put you through as you've been ever so desperate... but we all know how desperate you are if you're with Russia! But out of the goodness of my heart I shall allow you to talk to Germany... if you admit how much you want to suck my-"

America hangs up. "No. Way. In. Hell."

Maybe he felt bad for Italy... but he would never feel _that _bad. A personal visit might be more successful but... Well quite frankly he just doesn't want to do it. Life is completely miserable at the moment. He just wants to disappear for a while.

...Disappear?

Who did he know that was great at disappearing?

America calls Canada. "Hello? Is that you Al? Are you actually calling me?"

America grins. "Hey there Mattie, how ya doin'? What do you think about having your beloved brother over for a visit?"

There is a long pause. "Um..."

"You'd love it of course! So much so you're speechless! I'll be up there later today okay? See you then, bye!"

"But I-"

America cuts him off without really noticing. Alright! He would escape for a while. He needed the break. And really, who would think to actually look for him there? It was genius!

Wasting no time, he throws together an overnight bag and starts to head out the door. He pauses and dumps his cell phone on the couch. He didn't want to talk to anyone. Not one soul. Not his boss, not Russia, definitely not that bastard Prussia.

Feeling light, America leaves his house without a care in the world.

~.

Russia calls out America's name as he finally gets through the front door. There had been some kind of new security system but he had made short work of it. He does hope America hadn't been having trouble with break ins lately. He smirks to himself.

After waiting for a moment he calls out again. The only response is silence. Well that was odd. As far as he could remember America didn't have anywhere he was supposed to be.

Suddenly he hears a short jingle. Turning he spots America's cell phone on the couch. Curious, he picks it up and reads the text message it had just received.

When exactly did you plan on coming here?

From: Mattie

Russia goes through America's latest phone calls. The last one had been to 'Mattie' shortly after what was undoubtedly a failed call to 'Beer Fool' who was logically Germany.

Well, well. America probably thought he was cute, trying to sneak off. He pulls out his cell phone and makes a few calls. That should make Russia's point quite clear...

Just as he's about to put his cell phone away he pauses. America seemed to have nicknames for all the people in his contact list. He decides to see what he's under. He calls America's phone and waits a moment before the US national anthem begins to play and his contact info pops up. Red.

Russia scowls. The best Alfred could do was an outdated communism term? He's debating changing it when it starts to ring again. Eyebrows. That could only be one person.

Russia answers in a sweet voice. "Hello England. So you can finally use your hands? Oh, but I suppose your arm is still broken, right?"

There is a startled pause, then, "What in bloody hell are you doing answering Alfred's phone? Where is he?"

Russia sits down. "Hmmm he's a bit preoccupied at the moment. He can't come to the phone. Shall I relay a message for you?"

England sounds even more angry. "What have you done with him? I demand to speak with him immediately!"

Russia's eyes scan the room. He notices that there are even less sunflowers. At least Alfred was throwing the dead ones away now. He would send more soon. "He's in the shower. I just had my way with him not too long ago so he's rinsing off."

"You're a fucking liar! Let me speak with him or I will assume that you have done something to him!"

There's a gentle knock at the door. Japan was here. "I'm terribly sorry England, I have to go. He's calling for me to join him. I wish you a speedy recovery. No hard feelings?"

"You bast-"

Russia hangs up and turns off the phone before answering the door. "Hello Japan."

Japan looks up at him. "... Hello Russia-san."

Russia steps aside for him and Japan enters. His eyes scan the room. "Where is America-san?"

As Japan turns to face him Russia closes the door. "He isn't here."

Japan's eyes narrow. "I see. I suppose I was foolish in simply assuming he would be present. But perhaps..."

"Perhaps?"

Japan shakes his head. "It is of no importance. Do you have my camera?"

Russia takes it from his pocket and holds it out. "Here you are."

Japan steps forward to take it. Just as he is about to grab it Russia drops it. It hits the floor with a heavy thud. "Oh my, how unfortunate. It seemed to be a very nice model too. I'm sure it was terribly expensive."

Japan falls to his knees and picks it up. The lens has a crack running halfway through it.

He looks up at Russia with cold eyes, who flashes back a tight smile. "You did that on purpose."

Russia raises his eyebrows. "Did I? Aren't you supposed to be known for your politeness? It's rather rude of you to accuse me of purposefully dropping your camera. Especially when you can't prove it."

Japan stands, clutching the damaged camera. "I had started to think that maybe I could come to tolerate you. I was gravely mistaken."

Russia chuckles dryly. "Oh? I'm heart broken. Truly. But if we're going to be frank, then let me make this perfectly clear... Stay away from Alfred. He belongs to me."

Japan looks up at him then covers his mouth and starts to laugh mockingly. "America-san doesn't know we're here does he? He never did."

Russia frowns at Japan's laughter, anger rising. "What makes you say that?"

Japan shakes his head. "I had my doubts, I must admit. They were only strengthened when I came here and America-san was absent... I have no idea how you are making him let you get away with it, whether it is blackmail or something else... but there is no way that America-san is in love with you."

Russia looms in close, eyes flashing dangerously. "And you know this because...?"

Japan meets his gaze defiantly. "I am America-san's friend. I know him. And America-san does not fall in love and he does not have relationships. He has short affairs and friends with benefits."

"And would you happen to be one of these friends with benefits?" Russia's voice is hard.

Japan looks away modestly. "It is none of your business."

Russia grabs one of Japan's thin shoulders and slams him against a wall. The camera clatters back onto the floor. "You can be rest assured that it is most certainly my business."

Japan winces then glares at him. "If you truly want to be frank I'll tell you another reason I know your relationship is a fraud. I can not begin to count the times I have listened to America go off on how much he absolutely despises you."

Suddenly Russia grins. His hand releases Japan's shoulder and wraps around his neck instead. He lifts Japan until he is an inch off the ground. Japan claws at his hand and kicks at him. Russia speaks evenly, slowly. "I already knew he despised me. I couldn't care less. You could not imagine how much I have loathed him in return. I don't know what has transpired between yourself and Alfred... but he belongs to me now and some day there will be no doubt in your mind that he has in fact fallen in love with me."

With that he releases Japan who leans against the wall, taking deep breaths. "How dare you assault me! America-san would never be in a relationship with such a complete barbarian!"

Russia chuckles. "Oh? I can't say I've ever seen him prove himself a gentleman. We are a better match then you could ever dream."

Japan straightens up. "Perhaps he is not the most artful of nations but he could do much better than you."

The smile on Russia's face twitches and he reaches out for Japan again. However, Japan is prepared for this assault. He pulls out a small, hidden blade, swiping it and nearly catching Russia's hand. "Do not touch me! I will not allow you to take the upper hand again. I have come to retrieve my camera and that is all. My quarrel with you shall not be solved this day. As for your relationship with America-san, I will simply say it is doubtful at best. Perhaps you shall prove me wrong in time... but I will not wait with abated breath. Now leave me in peace Russia-san. I would not wish to spill your blood in America-san's home."

Russia gives Japan a dark smile. "I do hope you are a cautious man... If not you might wish to think about becoming one in the near future. It would be tragic if something were to happen to you, da?"

Japan firmly keeps his ground, voice clipped. "Farewell Russia-san. Best in health and in love."

Russia kicks his camera over. It stops at Japan's feet. He slowly reaches down and picks it up, never lowering his blade. Once he has a hold of it he backs up slowly until he is at the door, reaching blindly until his hand finds the handle and turns it. In silence he slips out of America's house, Russia's menacing gaze never wavering.

Russia stands in the middle of the living room, hands beginning to clench and unclench as fury rolls over him in waves. Once the feeling is not so overwhelming he walks over and plucks a sunflower from among its ranks and sits on the couch, feeling the silky texture of the petals between his fingers.

England was a mosquito to be swatted in time. Japan was an outright threat. Who knew the quiet, porcelain doll would be such a problem. Who knew America fucked him.

Russia smirks bitterly. It shouldn't be too much of a surprise. It would be naive to assume America was a virgin and it's not like he ever had. Still, it does not sit well with him at all, particularly if Japan was going to cause issues with his plan. Falling in love was hard work indeed.

Russia sighs and stares at the sunflower. "You are so very fortunate Alfred. There are many who care about your wellbeing. If I were to disappear this moment not a soul would care except for Natalya."

The thought awakens the deep depression that has been overwhelming him as of late. No, perhaps Italy would care now. Though he really was quite absorbed in his problem with Germany. Russia doesn't get it. Hadn't he been the one to tell him that if he was insecure about something he should discuss it directly with the person? Perhaps, Russia muses, Italy needed to be reminded of his own advice.

~.

The moment Canada opens the door, America throws himself on him. "Matthew! Tell anyone I'm here and I'll gut you like a fish! Make me pancakes please?"

Canada frowns agitatedly. "Alfred, you aren't supposed to greet someone with a threat and a demand!"

America nuzzles his chest. "Oh please Matthew? You make great pancakes and I'm starving!"

With a resigned sigh Canada finally pats his back. "Alright, I'll make you pancakes."

America lets go of him. "Yay! Make sure to put on tons of syrup okay?"

"Right, of course. Just the way you like them. So what brings you here anyway? It's not like impromptu visits are normal. In fact it's usually a miracle when you can even remember me," he mutters under his breath.

America tosses his bag into a chair. "I needed to get away for a while and what's the number one place people don't think of? Canada!"

Canada glares at him. "I am not making you pancakes anymore."

America pouts. "Oh come on, I'm kidding! Obviously I just wanted to see my brother! ...But seriously, if anyone asks, I'm definitely not here."

There are times when one simply has to accept they are dealing with an idiot. This was one of them. "Fine. I won't tell anyone. You better not be hiding from something dangerous though. I don't want to be involved."

Russia blips into America's mind for a second. "Er.... Don't be ridiculous! What do you take me for?"

"...You really don't want me to answer that."

America puts his arm around Canada's shoulders. "Let's just think of this as brotherly bonding time... Now let us start with the age old bonding tradition of you making me pancakes while I watch."

Canada shakes his head in disgust and pushes America away, heading towards the kitchen. As annoying as America could be he had probably come here for a reason. He would tell Canada in his own time. Until then Canada would just have to tolerate his behavior.

* * *

Translations:

du Narr-you fool

Du bist kein Spaß West-You're no fun West

mein kleiner Liebling- my little darling

**AN: **Oh, I love how German sounds. It is such a sexy language. -swoon- A quick note I would like to make on what Russia said about no one but Natalya caring if he disappeared... I did not mention Ukraine, not because I forgot about her but because from the perspective of one Mr. Braginski she has seems kind of uncaring what with avoiding him all the time.


	16. Chapter 16

Edit: Apparently Natalya is considered a legitimate spelling thus I will keep it that way. Congratulations to Sexykill69 for being my 300th reviewer! Your one shot Double or Nothing will be up in the near future, promise.

* * *

America eats his seventh pancake as enthusiastically as the first six. Mouth still half-full he asks, "Got anymore?"

Canada shakes his head, his own plate almost wiped clean. "I used the last of the batter and I don't feel like making more. Can't you wait until later?"

America swallows. "Fine. They're just so tasty! Your syrup is quality stuff too."

Canada can't help but beam. "Well I'm glad you think so. Oh, um... I've been meaning to ask... How have things been going with the whole Russia thing?"

America stands abruptly. "Hey, let's make a fort!"

His brother stares at him uncomprehendingly for a moment. "A what?"

"You know, a fort! Made of pillows and blankets and stuff. Remember when we used to do that all the time? It's been ages. Want to?" America smiles at him, but Canada knows his brother better than most. The smile is guarded, anxious. He didn't want to talk about it yet.

"...Well that's pretty... I guess it is you so it's not that surprising."

America leans over, glasses flashing. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

Canada laughs nervously. "N-nothing. Sure, we can make one. Though you have to help me clean up afterwards. I mean it."

America nods enthusiastically. "Yeah of course! Come on, let's go!"

The two of them scour the house for blankets, pillows, and chairs then build one of the finest pillow forts known to Northern America in Canada's living room. The end result even has a television hooked up in it as well as a game console. Unfortunately it has to be rebuilt no less than three times due to America's continues assaults on Canada with sneak attacks that lead to pillow fights of near violent proportions.

Finally the two stand before it, a little tired and frustrated but very proud. They crawl inside and fall back on a floor padded by a dozen pillows. Canada's bear, which had stayed out of the way of their horseplay finally comes sauntering in curiously.

Canada smiles at him. "Oh, did you come to see what we made?"

Kumajirou the bear looks around then walks over to America and crawls into his lap. America laughs and starts to pet his fur. "I love this guy. What's his name again?"

Canada frowns slightly at his traitorous behavior. "Um... Kamijaru."

Kumajirou looks over at him. "Who are you?"

Canada sighs. "...I'm Canada."

America laughs harder. "Haven't you had him forever? He still doesn't know you?"

"Oh be quiet. No one asked you."

America grins to himself and continues to pet the bear, vaguely thinking that he could have sworn his name was something slightly different then what Canada had said. Oh well, who would know better than Canada?

The two waste away the hours in a variety of ways. They watch a couple of Canadian and U.S. movies while debating if they would have been better made in the opposite country. America does a comedy sketch using the various dialects from different parts of his country. Canada goes on a long rant about hockey and how his teams were top notch. For a while they play video games until their competitive spirit threatens to destroy the fort. As they begin to burn into those awkward hours not quite night yet not quite morning they play cards and generally bullshit, keeping the topics light and away from any and all current events. As Canada wins yet another hand of Gin Rummy America throws down his cards in disgust. "Nevada, where is your influence? And since when did you become a gambling man?"

Canada smiles smugly. "Don't be so jealous just because you're losing. At least we aren't betting anything. Shall I deal again?"

America taps the cards. "Maybe one more."

He sighs and silence fills the fort as Canada shuffles the deck. Canada has just started to cut the deck when America finally breaks his silence.

"My boss..."

Canada pauses then keeps his hands moving, trying to act casually. "Yes?"

America stretches out, lying on his stomach. "Yesterday my boss told me he thinks that forming a closer personal tie with Russia might actually be a good thing. ...He's supporting it. He thinks that if we get along better it might ease tensions on a political level. And at this point he's taken care of most of the hostilities that resulted from that picture and the World Conference scandal."

America buries his face against a pillow, his voice slightly muffled. "If Russia ever finds out he'll be all over it. I just feel like everything and everyone is pressuring me into this lie. If this keeps up it'll... it'll become true! What am I going to do?"

Canada puts the cards down. "I see. Well... What do you want to do?"

America looks up at him. "Well the options that seem best are a, learn how to go back in time to stop it from ever starting or b, trade places with you and lay low for the next few decades."

Canada picks up one of the pillows and swings it hard, hitting the top of America's head. "Absolutely no way that is happening! If Russia is really that horrible then do something about it."

America pulls the pillow off his head. "Matthew, one does not just 'do something' about Russia. You think the Cold War would have lasted so long if it was that easy? He freaks me out. I mean, he pops out of nowhere, he sends me freakish amounts of flowers, he continuously forces himself on me, and he chained me up and made me dinner. _He chained me up and made me dinner Mattie._ Who does that? Plus he's claimed we've been on two dates then told me after the third date he can take the relationship to a new physical level! Shit, I have to do something but I don't know what! Not to mention the whole world except for you and England believes his story which makes it even harder."

"Why don't you just start telling the truth? I mean-"

"But nobody believes me! Between that picture and that moron Prussia's story everyone really thinks the two of us are an item. They think I'm lying if I deny it."

Canada crawls over and rubs his brother's back. "I believe you."

America reaches over and pats his knee. "I know. Thanks. At least someone does."

The two sit in silence for a while and then Canada snorts. He quickly puts a hand over his face. America looks up at him. "What?"

He shakes his head, shoulders starting to shake with repressed laughter. America starts to sit up. "What?"

Finally Canada can't hold it back anymore and begins to laugh. America stares at him, puzzled. "Seriously, what?"

Canada knows he's going to get smacked for this but it really is pretty funny. "I just tried imagining you chained up while Russia served you dinner."

America glares at him. "It isn't funny! It was weird! And he fed me while talking about the French butchering horses!"

Canada begins to giggle again. "I'm sorry, that is really funny! He's like the housewife from hell."

America rolls over. "I hate you. I never should have said anything!"

Canada wipes his eye. "I'm sorry Al, I didn't mean anything... It's not like I was laughing at you."

"It wasn't funny. He was really serious."

Canada tilts his head. "Serious? What do you mean?"

America speaks, but it is more to himself. "...I don't want to understand what he said. Because if I do... I'm going to sleep now. I'm tired."

Canada looks down at him thoughtfully. "I'm really sorry Al."

"S'alright. Really."

Canada shrugs and puts the cards away. He whispers goodnight to Kumajirou who is already curled up and asleep. America has taken off his glasses as well but has not said anything. With a sigh Canada throws a blanket over him before grabbing his own and lying next to him. "Goodnight Alfred."

He reaches up and turns off the small lamp that had been lighting their fort.

Canada has almost drifted off when America speaks again. "Hey Mattie? Have you ever... Have you ever wanted something just for you? Just for you as Matthew?"

The question takes him off guard. "Just for me? Um... Well... Yes, I suppose so. I mean, I've always wished people would notice me more. I guess that's a personal thing."

"I see. Which do you think is more important, the part of you that is Canada or the side of you that is Matthew?"

Canada wonders where all of this is coming from. "Obviously both are equally important. I have a responsibility to act out my duties as Canada. But I can't forget who I am as Matthew either. If I did that then... Well, then what is the point of everything I endure as Canada?"

There is a long pause, then, "Do you think we're lonely Mattie?"

Really, this is one of the deepest conversations he has had with America in a long time. "Lonely? I don't think so... We have each other. And Francis and Arthur... We all have each other don't we?"

Another brooding silence, then, "Yes. We do."

America reaches out and searches for his brother's hand in the dark. He takes it and squeezes it once he finds it. "Goodnight Matt."

Canada squeezes America's hand right back. "Yes, goodnight."

America lies awake even as his brother's breathing becomes deep and even with sleep.

Even if he wants to deny it there had been things he had done for 'Alfred' hadn't there been? Things he wished he could have done for 'Alfred' and no one else. But that didn't have to mean anything. He had never felt a desperate need to do something for this part of him alone had he?

Canada mumbles something in his sleep and tightens his grip on America's hand for a moment.

America smiles. Yes, for better or worse Matthew was there, as well as Arthur and Kiku... and maybe Francis on a good day. Though he wouldn't hold his breath. He closes his eyes and tries to will himself to sleep, ignoring the thread of a thought that appears in his mind for just a moment.

_Russia... he has someone too, doesn't he...?_

~.

Early the next morning America is awoken by the sound of his brother groaning and shuffling about. He is vaguely aware of the sound of knocking. He chooses to ignore all of these things and goes back into a light doze. No doubt he would have fallen into a state of sleep immediately if it wasn't for Canada's sudden outburst.

"Wait- These are- But there are so many- Alfred!"

Feeling sluggish with sleep, America sits up slowly. "Wha?"

Canada's voice comes again, more insistently. "Alfred! Come out here quick!"

With an unhappy groan America fumbles around for Texas then staggers to his feet, almost knocking half the fort over as he blearily tries to get out its small entrance. He grumpily shuffles to his brother. What could possibly be so important that he had to-

Oh shit.

Canada looks at him, expression bewildered, as huge arrangements of sunflowers are brought into the house. He stands frozen in place. Russia had found him?!

The final man leaves and America and Canada stare at one another, surrounded by sunflowers and utterly dazed. Canada glances down at something in his hands then holds it out. "This... This is for you."

Numbly America walks over and takes it, opens it, and feeling a bit ill reads it.

_Alfred, _

_Oh my amusing Alfred... Did you really think you could hide from me? A gift of warmth from my heart to your brother's home. Do not try to escape me again. Next time I'll come for you myself. Hugs and kisses! _

_Love,_

_Ivan_

_P.S. I have composed a poem even your uncultured, unpoetic mind can comprehend._

_It does so please_

_for me to tease_

_you my dear_

America's arm goes limp and the letter hangs at his side. "...This is exactly what my life has become. I am in sunflower hell, forcefully married to the sunflower devil."

Canada takes the card cautiously from America's hand and reads over it, face pinching with concern. "He's been like this the past month or so? And you've been putting up with it?"

America laughs, almost hysterically. "'Putting up with it'? Is that what this is? He... Oh god, did he put a transmitter on my body?! Mattie, check for me!"

He begins to tug off his clothes. Canada waves his arms. "Stop it! I don't want to!"

"You have to! Come on, just look at me damn it!"

After quite a bit of struggling and more stripping the two sit on the floor. Even having been forced to see more of his brother than he would have ever cared to, Canada had not found anything that looked like a transmitter. As creepy as this all was, Russia had apparently not stooped to bugging Alfred's body. America is still puzzled on how he could have figured it out. Evil Russian super science. Had to be it.

Canada makes him more pancakes to try and cheer him up. It doesn't seem to make much of a difference. America broods in silence, half-stunned. He puts off going home as long as possible. He even helps Canada take the fort down and put everything away like he had promised—and which he had originally intended to skip out on. Finally there is not much left to do and he knows that he can't put off going home forever. Besides, Russia obviously knows where he is anyway.

With a sigh of resignation, America gathers all of his belongings. "Well, I have to get home. Thanks for letting me crash for a while. It was a lot of fun."

Canada looks at him helplessly. "Yes... It was Al. It really was. I... If there is anything I can do...?"

"Switch places with-"

"No way."

America shakes his head. "I'll figure something out. Take care Mattie."

Canada stands in the doorway. Something strikes him and he calls out to his brother. "Hey Alfred, what am I supposed to do with all of these sunflowers?"

America turns around and shrugs. "Whatever you want kiddo. They're your problem not mine."

Canada scowls. Still, he couldn't be too angry. He would not take America's predicament for anything in the world.

~.

Tired beyond reason, America enters his home, not registering the fact that his security system had been deactivated. It is getting dark but not so much that he can't make his way cautiously straight to his room to curl up into bed and never, ever come out again. He is halfway through the room when the light snaps on. Whole body pumping with a sudden burst of adrenaline, America turns around.

Russia sits on the couch, fingers laced, hands in lap, expression deceptively pleasant. "Добро пожаловать домой, Alfred. I want to discuss Japan."

* * *

Translations:

Добро пожаловать домой-Welcome home,

**AN: **America and Canada being in super brother mode is ridiculously cute to me.

For those of you who do not know, Canada called Kumajirou the wrong name because just as his bear can not remember who he is, Canada can never quite remember his name.

"Nevada, where is your influence?" - Nevada is known for gambling.


	17. Chapter 17

America stumbles backwards, his mind struggling to comprehend what is sitting before him. "R-Russia?! What are you doing here? How did you get in?"

Russia tilts his head. "I entered through the front door and I am here to discuss Japan. Now, come sit next to me and we shall talk."

America shakes his head slowly. "Y-you have to be kidding me! Shit, that system was a total waste... How long have you been here?"

"Since yesterday. I slept in your bed last night, I hope you don't mind. I decided I might as well get used to how it feels. It's a bit soft."

America frowns. He would have to wash all of his bedding now. "What the fuck? Of course I mind! I don't know why you've been here since yesterday or what Japan has to do with it but I want you to get out of my house! The gift you sent to Canada's house more than filled my quota of how much I can tolerate you on a weekly basis."

Russia stands and starts approaching America. America feels the hair on his arms stand on end, but he refuses to back up. If this is going to be taken care of he can't let Russia walk all over him. Russia stops about a foot away from him.

When Russia speaks his voice has an edge to it that sends even more messages of panic to America's brain that he defiantly ignores, "I am not happy right now Alfred. If you do not sit down this instant then I will make you."

America raises an eyebrow. "I'd like to see you try."

Russia smirks and America immediately—too late—realizes this is a stupid thing to say. Russia violently grabs him and turns, throwing him across the room. America stumbles back, almost catching himself when he crashes against the couch. As he tries to organize his splayed limbs Russia is on top of him, pinning him down.

Russia straightens America's glasses, which have gone askew on his face. "Do not test me Alfred."

America swallows hard. "Look... if you're having some kind of fight with Kiku right now-"

Russia leans in closer. "Must you always say his name in front of me?"

America shrinks back. He decides not to say that Japan is his friend and he will use his name if he damn well pleases. "If you're having a fight with... him then don't think I'm going to help you out!"

Russia clicks his tongue. "This isn't just about Japan. It is specifically about you and Japan. Do you have sex with him?"

America's cheeks flush. Where was this coming from? "It is none of your business what my relationship to Japan is!"

Russia's eyes narrow. "You even respond the same way he did. Tell me now or I'll be forced to get the information from him and I will not be so gentle."

Irritated and somewhat confused on how this had even come up, America glowers up at him. "God, why is it such a big deal?"

"If it isn't a big deal then just tell me."

America shakes his head. "No, because it means something to Japan and I respect his wish for privacy."

Russia pulls back. "...I am going to rip his heart out next time I see him."

America looks at him in alarm. "What the fuck!? Don't do that! Leave him alone!"

"How can I leave him alone when he is obviously a threat to our relationship?"

America is exasperated beyond words. "What are you talking about?"

Russia looks like he has bitten into something bitter. "Japan was quite happy to tell me that you only indulge in short affairs and friends with benefits. I can only assume he is one of said 'friends', da?"

Oh lord, why had Japan said that? He really doesn't like to breach Japan's privacy but if he was going to go talking about things like that with Russia... What choice does America have but to make it clear how much Russia does not need to kill him?

America looks away uncomfortably. "It's not like... It's just... I mean, it isn't like it's a big deal and it's only happened a few times. I drink a bit too much beer, he drinks too much sake, things happen. I have needs okay? If you haven't noticed most of my allies are countries I consider part of my family. It's really casual. Doesn't have a thing to do with politics and we don't really discuss it. It's... I don't know, it's just sex."

Russia looks thoughtfully at America. "When is the last time you had one of these encounters with him?"

America looks at him grumpily. "A while okay? As in years. I've sort of had my plate full. Leave Kiku, Japan, whatever, leave him alone or we will have a very serious problem."

Russia grabs his chin. "Why do you defend him so much? And what is with all the respect? I haven't seen it extended to many others."

America is getting pissed. This questioning is getting a lot more personal than his sex life whether Russia realizes it or not. "You aren't my lover even if you think you are, and you aren't part of my family. You aren't even my friend. Give me one good reason I should answer that."

Russia sharply tilts his face up. "Because I will be your lover, I told you to, and if you don't I will crush every bone in his fragile body."

America blows up. "I like him okay? Is that a fucking crime? People have friends, Russia! Holy shit, do I need a permit? Our relationship has nothing to do with you! You have no right to ask about him or why I do what I do! It's not your business and it never will be! And I respect him because he deserves it. He's a really cool guy and he's smart as hell and he's really weird which I find hilarious. And I promised-"

America takes a deep breath, calming himself. "Never mind."

Russia grabs his face. "What?"

"Nothing. Leave me alone, why can't you just...?" America is so tired. Why is Russia doing this to him?

Russia continues persistently, "I told you I won't give up. If I have to make your existence a living hell to get what I want, I shall do so."

America closes his eyes. He just wants Russia to stop. He wants to crawl into bed and get a decent night's sleep for once and not have to worry about who is saying what about him or what Russia might be plotting next.

He finally breaks down and responds in an emotionless voice. "I promised him we would always be friends. I said it so confidently back then. And then I dropped two bombs that damn near shattered him. God it was awful... not even military towns. They wanted to see...They wanted to see how much damage they would do. You were right about that. Humans, they are not always noble. I didn't want to. I really always liked him, you know? But my boss...And I was so angry... I want to take it back. I owe him that much after everything I did, the respect and what protection I can provide. Is that good enough for you? Are you satisfied?"

A pause. "Do you love him?"

America laughs dryly. "Of course that wouldn't be good enough for you. Do I love him? No, not the way you mean. I like him very much but I am not in love with Kiku. He's right. I don't fall in love. Love is best left to the silver screen."

Russia touches his lips and America opens his eyes. "You sound so bitter about it. I never would have guessed coming from one so young as yourself. It makes me feel better. You really are quite the perfect choice."

And what is that supposed to mean? It's driving America crazy. "Why exactly am I the perfect choice?"

Russia gives him a closed smile. "Lots of reasons."

Before America can push him further on the subject, Russia changes it. "Admittedly I am still upset about this... But I am willing to forgive you as it did occur quite a long time before my wooing began. However, it will not be tolerated in the future. Nor will any interactions with any other countries that might lead to your infidelity."

America stares at him. "Has anyone ever told you that you're fucking crazy?"

With a grin, Russia leans in. "Oh my yes. More times than I'd care to remember."

He kisses America, who turns away. "Cut it out!"

"You know," Russia murmurs softly against his cheek. "I've noticed my mark is almost gone. I think I have to make a new one."

America begins to wriggle beneath him, trying to break his hold. "No way am I allowing that to happen again!"

Russia maintains a strong hold on him. "If you let me give you a fresh hickey I promise to leave Japan alone."

America stops moving. "...What, you won't if I refuse?"

"Mmm, something like that," is the cheerful response.

America gives him a fierce glare. He has been pushed around too much. He's done. "I am the United States of America, land of the free, and you will never make me do something I don't want to do!"

Russia pulls back and examines America's fierce expression. "Oh...? Hmmm."

America gives a sharp tug and frees one of his hands, pushing on Russia's chest to create more space between them. "Kiku is my friend and I will not tolerate you harassing him because you're jealous or something! So back off, understand?"

Russia reaches out and pinches America's cheek. "Ow!"

"Alfred, I am a very jealous man. I will leave your precious Japan alone, but only as long as I see no reason to feel threatened by him. If he initiates anything I will especially not be held responsible for what transpires."

America rubs his cheek. "Hmph. Am I going to have to worry about everyone I have any ties to? I'm amazed you didn't come in and kick Mattie's ass last night."

Russia shakes his head. "Oh no, what's-his-face gets a pass because he's the only one I consider your actual brother. Siblings get special consideration. Unless of course there is some reason I should be worried about him?"

America rolls his eyes. "As if. And his name is...uh...Canada! Why does he get special consideration anyway?"

Russia shrugs. "I myself have sisters. Though my relationship with one is quite strained at the moment and the other one is...Erm... Well, the point is I will tolerate your brother."

That's right, Russia has sisters. America knew he must have had someone or other. Even if they might be complicated relationships it's something. "No wonder you're so soft spoken if you grew up with sisters. Oh damn it, I just remembered! How did you know that I was at Canada's house? Are you spying on me with satellites, or did you install a chip or, or, or something else utterly diabolical? I demand you tell me!"

Russia giggles. "I'll tell you how if you let me give you that hickey."

"That's not fair! You're a bastard you know that? Fine, I don't need to know! Now get off of me or-"

Russia's phone starts to ring. He digs it out of his pocket, face going pale as he sees who it is. He shoves a hand across America's mouth. "Be very quiet! Don't even breathe."

America tries to tug the hand away. If Russia doesn't move it the 'don't even breathe' part is going to become a permanent state.

Oblivious, Russia answers the phone. "H-hello? ...I-I know I said I would be home yesterday. Things happened and... I will be there a bit later than I thought, I just... N-no, nothing is wrong! I swear!"

If he wasn't so desperate to get some air, Russia's nervousness would be much more striking to America. He still can't help but wonder who is on the other end. His boss maybe? Damn it, he is going to die if Russia doesn't let go soon! Russia just clamps down harder as America struggles to get away.

"I know, I know...I understand, I'm very sorry... No I'll be home soon.... Wh-what? No, don't do that! Please, I don't need you to come after me. I'm going to be heading home any minute now. Please just stay there... Of course I'm not trying to h-hide anything! ...I don't think there's anything suspicious about my behavior...N-no please! Don't say that! Don't- Just stay there, I have to go. I'll be home soon! ...Y-yes, I l-love... yes you too."

Russia quickly hangs up. How could he have forgotten to call Belarus? He removes his hand. "So sorry for-"

America is passed out, undoubtedly from lack of oxygen. "Oops. I didn't mean to cover his nose too."

It seems their conversation is finished for now. He has to get going very soon anyway. How could he make such a huge mistake? Belarus is already suspicious, now she will be doubly so.

Russia pokes his cheek. "Alfred? Hm. Oh well, he looks like he needs sleep."

A mischievous smirk appears on his face and he lifts America's chin up. When opportunity knocks, one must open the door. He kisses America's neck then begins to suck. He pulls back and determines it is satisfactory. A thought comes to him. To punish him and to drive home just how much he belongs to Russia, he picks a new spot and sucks greedily at the skin. He gives the spot a final lick. Wouldn't America just be ever so pleased with these little gems when he wakes up? Russia giggles, wishing he could stay long enough to see his reaction.

Russia gets up and takes America into his arms, carrying him towards the bedroom. He arranges America on the bed, removing his glasses, boots, and coat. He brushes America's hair back and kisses his forehead then his lips. He decides kissing America on the forehead feels oddly paternal.

Russia sits on the edge of the bed, looking at him a moment. It's a bit tempting to molest him. He would have to arrange for a third date very soon.

America groans softly and Russia strokes his cheek. "You can be very hurtful my dear. Not everyone has friends."

Oh well, someone like America would never think of something like that, nor would think to care. "до свидания, милый. Мы увидимся очень скоро."

With that he stands, hoping it won't take him too long to get home.

~.

Russia leans his head against the small window, staring out at the endless field of clouds that may very well extend into forever. He is sorting the things America had said in their conversation, finding and examining the important parts. America said he doesn't love Japan and Russia determines that he believes him. Though he has no intention of forgiving Japan or easing up his suspicions of him.

America's comment about not falling in love is of particular interest to him. It entices him, makes him curious, pleases him on some level. So he isn't the only one. It's a bit of a relief.

There is another sentences that Russia comes back to again and again. _'I am the United States of America, land of the free, and you will never make me do something I don't want to do!' _

You will never make me do something I don't want to do...

Something I don't want to do...

"I see," Russia murmurs. Of course, America is stubborn. Apply pressure and he will not bend, he will push back. But if he doesn't think he is being pressured into something... If it's his choice...

Russia decides it's time to restrategize. A head on assault will only do so much. But there is more than one way to fight a war.

~.

Belarus sits at the window, watching the snow fall. The glass is cold, but she does not mind. She will wait diligently until big brother is home. Big brother, whose actions have been strange as of late. Who has been hiding things. But what? Yes, that is the troublesome question. What is he hiding and why?

No matter. Belarus, loving sister and future wife of Russia, will get to the bottom of it. If there is a problem all she has to do is eliminate it.

* * *

Translations:

до свидания, милый. Мы увидимся очень скоро-Goodbye, darling. I will see you very soon. (corrected)

**AN: **Russia's conversation with Belarus is like a husband getting caught with his mistress -laughs-

You know, I think the divorce rate in the States is 50% or just about there. How sad.


	18. Chapter 18

Hello everyone! Mm I was surprised how many people sent me statistics on the divorce rates in the U.S. It was interesting, thanks~ Ah, there is a lot of clips of Russian, Italian, mostly German in this one... I have no idea why it just felt right. -laughs- Sorry if it's bothersome.

* * *

When America wakes up it is with one hell of a headache. Groaning, he rubs his head and turns over. It's not even light outside yet, he should not be awake. Stupid headache. America begins to doze. An image of Russia appears in his mind.

"Oh shit!" He sits up abruptly, looking around him. He's in his bedroom. Last thing he remembers is passing out in the living room because stupid Russia almost killed him. He looks down quickly and breathes a sigh of relief when he sees he is not naked.

Still feeling disoriented he sits up and squints around the dark room. No Russia lurking about that he can see... He snaps his bedside lamp on and sees Texas sitting next to it. Putting them on hastily he stands and does a quick search of his house. It seems Russia is really gone.

A bit relieved, he returns to his room and crawls back into bed. He doesn't fall back into a deep sleep, instead dozing on and off until the light gradually becomes lighter and lighter. The time he is awake he devotes to a pastime he likes to avoid whenever possible: thinking seriously.

Surely there is something to this whole thing with Russia chasing him so fervently. He had said America was a perfect choice. A perfect choice... Meaning he hadn't been the only one in the running originally. So why did Russia pick him? And for what purpose? There has to be something to it, something Russia isn't saying. America has to know. It outweighs the need to run and hide. If it kills him he will find out why Russia had decided they would fall in love.

But how should he go about it? Something else to worry about. So many things to worry about. Like the itch between his shoulders which kept getting more persistent, harder to ignore, though he is doing his damnedest to. He also has to talk to Japan and find out why Russia had freaked out about him. Probably should apologize too, though if he hadn't told Russia about his relationship with Japan the man would have killed him.

Once the room has become relatively light America decides it is useless to stay in bed if he can't fall asleep. Sleepily, he makes his way to the bathroom and starts to strip. He has taken off Texas when he glances into the mirror. With a strangled cry he shoves Texas forcefully back onto his face and strides towards the mirror, looking at the new hickey on his neck.

"Ugh, seriously? Damn you to hell, Russia! You bastard!" He rubs at the spot angrily.

As he pulls away he finally notices it. A second red spot, jauntily crying out to any who might catch a glimpse that someone had left his mark. Eyes wide he looks at the mirror, then down at his body. There is a hickey right above his pelvic bone.

"Auggggh! Russia, you son of a bitch!"

~.

America finishes wrapping the bandages around his neck. It seems he has no choice but to walk around like this again. Luckily while the other one is in a far more embarrassing place it is also where most if any people would not get to see.

Irritated, he goes in search of his cell phone. Where was it again? He remembers tossing it onto the couch. Hopefully it hadn't been crushed last night.

Making his way to the couch he starts digging in the cushions until he feels the cool plastic surface of his phone. Struggling a moment to get his fingers wrapped around it he finally tugs it out. Strange, he doesn't remember turning it off...

Flipping it open and turning it on he ignores the missed calls and quickly looks through his sent calls and texts just to make sure Russia hadn't used it. For some reason he has a ton of voice messages. A bit apprehensively he calls his voice mail. Moments later he is bombarded with message after message of a ranting, screaming Arthur demanding to speak to him. There are quite a few threats thrown in and some very colorful language America hasn't heard him use in a long time. These are all directed towards one Russia.

Just great, while he hadn't called him, Russia must have answered a call from England and said something to him. Now he has to call him too.

Grumbling about how much extra work he is getting stuck with, America cuts off England's rant and dials Kiku's number.

"Moshi moshi?"

America feels a wave of relief. "Hey Kiku, it's Alfred. Um, you aren't hurt or anything are you?"

"Ah, no I am quite fine America-san, thank you for inquiring. Are you well?"

America scratches the back of his head. "Mmm that's a good question. I'm going to go with a tentative not really. But that's besides the point. I just was asking because well...Russia sort of gave me the idea that he's talked to you recently and it... well that it didn't go well."

Japan's voice hardens a bit. "Ah yes, Russia-san was kind enough to return my camera. Unfortunately he chose to break it before doing so. He also had us meet at your home, though it's strange as you were not there at the time."

So that's why he had been here. Still, why did he insist on meeting Japan here of all places? "I'm really sorry about that Kiku. If I had been here... Well I went up to go see Canada. I'll buy you a new camera to replace the one he broke."

"Oh America-san, that is not at all necessary."

"Really, I insist. Let me buy one. It'll be even more awesome than your last one, I promise. I mean he should be the one replacing it but that's never going to happen. I'm sorry about that."

Japan sounds reluctant. "Well if you insist, thank you very much America-san, I am grateful."

An uncomfortable pause follows. Both wish to talk about somewhat touchy topics but one is too reserved and the other is too embarrassed.

Japan finally inquires tentatively, leaving an opening for the beginning of the conversation. "Did Russia-san tell you of our conversation?"

America clears his throat. "Not really. Just, er... Just that you told him about my having friends with benefits and then he wanted to know if you were one... Kiku why would you say that? He's fucking crazy! You should have seen him. He was threatening to- No, I don't even want to tell you."

Japan carefully weighs out his words. "I do apologize for any inconvenience this has caused you America-san. I simply wished to clear up certain doubts...His farce disgusts me. Ah, you didn't... you didn't tell him did you?"

Farce? Did Japan know that Russia was lying about their relationship then? This elates him a bit. The following question dampens the feeling. "Er...I... I'm sorry Kiku, I didn't have much of a choice. If I didn't I really think he would have seriously hurt you. I didn't want to but... If you had seen him you would understand...I...He shouldn't bother you though. And I mean, I said as little as possible."

America can almost hear the blush that has painted Japan's face. "I...I see. No, I apologize once more for putting you in such a situation."

There is a painfully long silence, neither knowing what to say.

America finally laughs nervously. "H-hey Japan, did you still want to hang out soon? You always have cool new video games to play right?"

Japan sounds relieved to be changing the subject for the time being. "Hai, I would like that America-san. I am free at the end of this week or at the beginning of next week."

America thinks about it for a moment. "I think the beginning of next week should work just fine."

The two work out a day and time, both knowing it will be easier to talk face to face. "Alright Kiku, I'll be sending you that camera soon. You'll love it, promise. Take care of yourself and...Well, stay away from Russia if you can."

"Thank you America-san, you are too kind. I shall see you later. Ja ne."

"Yep, bye."

America hangs up and runs a hand through his hair, letting out a slow breath. It made sense that Japan would see through Russia. Now he would have to call and calm England. And then... Maybe not today, but soon, he has to call Russia.

~.

Russia stands above Belarus, shaking his head not unkindly. "Were you waiting all this time?"

Belarus is silent, slumped over with her forehead pressed against the cold window, very much asleep. Very gently, Russia picks her up and takes her to her room, tucking her in.

"Мне жаль." He touches her hair before turning to leave.

A hand clamps down on his wrist. "Please sleep with me big brother."

Russia tries to pull away. "N-nooooo I don't want to!"

She pulls him onto the bed and traps him in an ironclad grip. "I love you very much big brother. Please don't leave me so unexpectedly like that ever again. Next time I won't forgive you so easily. Xорошего сна."

"Er...Y-yes you too..." Russia stares miserably at the wall as Belarus snuggles against him, fingers digging into his skin.

Well it could have been worse. Still, he will have to do everything in his power to keep her from finding out. He has to be extra careful from now on. A slip up would lead to the end of Alfred.

~.

Italy stands at Germany's door. He can't do it, he can't bring himself to knock... The conversation he had the other day with Russia comes back to him.

"_Italy, I've been thinking about it and perhaps you should discuss this problem with Germany directly. Alfred agrees. In fact he brought it up. Didn't you say that confronting someone when you think there is a problem makes you feel better? Maybe talking to Germany will clear everything up." _

_Italy had shied away from his own advice being returned. "B-but he just wants to be friends. What if he doesn't want to be friends after I tell him?"_

_Russia had been a silent for a moment then said, "If he no longer wishes to be your friend because you care so much for him then he is not your friend at all. If there has been a misunderstanding then it will be cleared up. No matter what you will be left better off. Besides, you haven't talked to him for the past few days da? Your relationship, no matter what it may be, will suffer if this continues. You must talk to Germany." _

Italy squirms nervously. Of course he is right. He can't let this awkwardness continue. Glad that he has Russia and America worrying about this and helping him, he gathers his courage and knocks faintly.

In his head he recites the words he wants to say over and over again. The door opens. Face hot, Italy blurts, "Please don't be mad at me! I'm really sorry!"

Prussia leans against the door frame. "Ooh? And what is little Italy so sorry about?"

Italy hiccups with surprise. "P-Prussia! Um... I...Is Germany here?"

Prussia shakes his head, grinning. "Nein, I'm afraid he is not. But I am here. Would you like to play with me Italy?"

Italy takes a step back. "Ve... N-no that's alright. I'm sorry. Could you tell him I was here and need to talk to him?"

Maliciously, Prussia reaches out and rubs Italy's curl. "No need to run off so quickly, ja?"

Italy shivers. "Wh-wha-whaa!"

"Prussia, stop it!" A hand smacks sharply across the back of Prussia's head.

Prussia lets go of the hair and rubs the assaulted spot. "Autsch! What was that for West? Besides, I told you to stay back!"

Germany scowls at him and turns uncertainly towards Italy. "Er, I apologize Italy. Are...um, how can I help you?"

Italy stands uncomfortably outside. "I was...I was just wondering if...if I could..."

Germany feels a pang of sympathy. "Would you like to come in?"

Italy looks up hopefully and nods. Germany pulls Prussia aside and Italy comes in. "Do you want something to drink?"

Italy shakes his head. Now was not the time to ask for aged wine. Besides, all Germany ever seems to have is beer.

Prussia leans against Germany. "You could get me ein bier, bruder."

Germany gives him an annoyed look. "Go get yourself one!"

Italy feels a searing pang of jealousy at how casually Prussia touches Germany. "Um, I...I was hoping I could talk to you about something Germany."

Germany stiffens. This was a good opportunity to clear up whatever had happened at dinner. However, he hadn't been expecting it this second. "Right. What do you have to say?"

He winces just as much as Italy at the gruffness of his response. Italy starts to tear up and wrings the bottom of his shirt. "I...I...Mi dispiace molto, ti prego di perdonarmi! Ti am-!"

Prussia reaches over and pulls on Italy's curl again. "I have no idea what he's saying but they're right about it being a romantic language. Makes me have all sorts of cravings for Italienisch. How about you West?"

Germany angrily smacks his hand. "Stop it East! If you don't control yourself this instant I will remove you from the house!"

Prussia pokes his side. "Ooh, West. You're being so forceful. Ich liebe es, wenn du mich so behandelst."

Face flushed, Germany turns to Italy. "I'm very sorry for my idiot brother and his idiot behavior!"

Italy continues to wring his shirt, biting his bottom lip. He very much hates Prussia right now. Why can't he just go away? "I...Is it possible we could speak privately for a moment?"

Germany opens his mouth but Prussia quickly shakes his head. "Nein, I am currently acting as his personal body guard. As I must keep an eye on said body at all times I'm afraid I can't do that Italy. You can be alone with me all you want though."

Italy glares up fiercely at him and Prussia is taken somewhat off guard before laughing. "What a face! So cute! He must be plotting against you after all! Definitely won't be letting you out of my sights West."

Plotting? Italy has no idea what is Prussia talking about. "Ve?"

Germany rubs the bridge of his nose. "Look bruder-"

Italy quickly shakes his head. It is obvious he is only causing Germany problems. "N-no. It's... I'm really, really sorry I bothered you! I just... I miss you."

Germany's face turns pink and he is completely tongue tied.

Italy raises a hand. "I'll see you later Germany. Sorry for being a pest."

Germany takes a step forward. "Italy!"

Italy shakes his head, nerve lost, and rushes out the door. "Ciao!"

Prussia tilts his head. "He sure is acting strange. Nice ass though."

Germany turns on him. "You! This is... Ich kann diesem nicht glauben! You're really starting to get on my nerves Prussia, so back off!"

Prussia pouts. "I'm just trying to protect you! Don't be such a jerk!"

Germany points angrily at him, gritting his teeth, then simply shakes his head. "There has to be a book on how to deal with this kind of thing."

Germany storms off, wracking his brain on where he might find a book on how to find out if your closest friend is plotting against you even if it seems highly unlikely and how to understand their strange behavior in general.

Prussia crosses his arms. Some people don't appreciate anything. Oh well, there is a beer calling to him. Protecting his brother is tough work but... Well it's better than being bored. He really hopes America calls again. He wants to harass him some more.

As Prussia goes off to get a beer and Germany scours his favorite book stores for assistance, Italy berates himself heavily. He had all but waved the white flag. How can he ever tell Germany how he feels if Prussia is always in the way? It seems it's all hopeless after all...

* * *

Translations:

Мне жаль-I'm sorry

Xорошего сна -Sleep well (fixed)

Autsch-Ouch

Mi dispiace molto, ti prego di perdonarmi! Ti am-! - I am very sorry, please forgive me! I lo-!

Italienisch -Italian

Ich liebe es, wenn du mich so behandelst-Very roughly trying to say 'I love it when you treat me this way' though I think it comes out more as 'I love it, if you treat me this way' but I was having a hard time getting it right. Corrected, thank you!

Ich kann diesem nicht glauben!-I cannot believe this!


	19. Chapter 19

Greetings~ So I know someone said they were interested in America's conversation with England but it won't be shown. While it was undoubtedly hilarious it's not important -laughs- I'll try to get them interacting again in the future.

* * *

Two days later:

Belarus watches Russia thoughtfully. Ever since he came home he has been acting normally and there has been no more strange behavior, mysterious phone calls, or sudden departures. It only serves to make her more suspicious. She can't shake the feeling that something is happening right under her nose.

Not looking up from the paperwork he is flipping through, Russia stands up. "I'm going to my office if you need me."

She sits up. "When can you spend some time with me big brother?"

He smiles nervously. "Soon. I'm a bit behind and my boss isn't happy with me right now."

Belarus hugs her legs. "Your boss is in the way of our love. If I could get away with it I would..."

"D-don't do anything rash! I promise I'll spend some free time with you after I finish this."

Watching him leave the room, Belarus sighs. No matter what she did, whether she is direct or tries her best to keep her distance, big brother's attitude towards her never seems to change. She will just have to do her best.

Perhaps she should make something special for Russia today. It might make him happy. If she remembers correctly they are low on some supplies. While Russia had asked her not to go out she doesn't want to disturb him if he's busy. Besides, being in the house for a month has become a bit claustrophobic. Especially when she is alone half the time.

Slipping into a heavy coat, Belarus takes her first step off the premises in weeks. It feels good to walk in the crisp air, to be surrounded by the world again. Heading into town, Belarus takes her time shopping. She is sure to pick the freshest produce for her meal. Wouldn't big brother be pleased with her?

Belarus is heading home when it happens. A little incident that on any other day would not have mattered. On this day it has near fatal consequences. A man walking a bit too quickly bumps her arm and a single potato falls from her bag. Frowning severely, Belarus leans down to pick it up. Her hand freezes inches above the potato as her eyes catch sight of a worn, old newspaper scrap. Trembling, her hand changes direction and snatches it up.

It's a lie.

It has to be a lie.

Her beloved Ivan kissing that filthy America.

For a moment Belarus's vision becomes a violent red and hate courses through her veins. An ungodly shriek of rage escapes her lips, making everyone in the near vicinity form a hundred foot barrier around her. Her bag of groceries slips from her hand and spills onto the ground. She doesn't even notice. The more she looks at the picture the more her blood boils with hatred. No, surely Russia wasn't... It had to be America's fault. It was his fault, he must have seduced her sweet, innocent Ivan! Belarus rips the picture in half, eyes alight with hellfire.

Alfred "America" Jones must die!

~.

America stares at his phone. For the first time in ages he begs someone to call him, anyone. To harass him, to nag at him, just to talk to him. Anything. It remains silent. Damn it.

With great reluctance he picks it up and goes through his contact list very slowly, still holding out hope that he might receive a call. No such luck. Finally he reaches Russia's number. Swallowing hard he pushes send, wincing as the phone begins to ring.

One ring, two, three, four... maybe he won't answer?

"Alfred?"

Damn it.

"Er...Hi Russia."

The surprise and delight in Russia's voice is audible. "What a pleasant surprise! How sweet of you to call me! I would reward you if you were close to me. And it's Ivan."

America shudders. "Ugh don't... Just don't make this into a big deal. First of all, you completely suck, giving me these hickeys when I was defenseless! Oh damn it, I mean, 'you suck'. Shit that came out sounding like a bad pun...You're a bastard!"

Russia giggles. "You're adorable. Glad you're enjoying them."

"I am not! Look, that's not why I'm calling. I... I want to..."

"Da?"

America rubs his forehead. "I want to meet with you."

More surprise. "Oh Alfred, you're asking to meet with me? I never thought this day would come!"

America's face flushes bright red. "It's not like that! I expect you to tell me exactly why you chose me as a love interest. You claim you want to fall in love? Well being honest is part of that. If you're really serious then you will tell me your reasons."

There's silence on the other end of the line.

"Russia?"

Russia's voice comes out more serious than before. "Ivan, I told you to call me Ivan. Where do you want to meet me?"

America sighs in relief. It actually worked. He repeats the address of a building not too far off. Technically condemned but structurally sound. His reasons for choosing it are no less than the action fan in him wanting a dramatic location for such a confrontation.

Russia repeats the address for him. "That is correct?"

"Yep, that's the place. The meeting time can be noon tomorrow. Sound peachy?"

"It is fine."

America is surprised he isn't gloating more. He supposes the other country didn't particularly want to be pushed on his reasons why. Tough. "See you then I suppose."

"Da."

America hangs up feeling a bit strange about the whole thing. While it had disgusted him a little to throw in the line about if Russia was being serious about being in love he would tell him his reasons, but the direct approach had seemed the easiest and most effective way to find out. And it is working so far. All he can do is hope Russia won't pull a fast one on him or try to lie.

~.

Belarus walks rapidly back home, teeth grinding, face livid. How could Russia let himself be fooled by that... that slut? She will simply have to straighten him out!

Upon arriving home she throws the front door open, not caring if it falls back into place, and heads directly for Russia's office. Her hand has just shot out to grab the doorknob so that she might rip the door off its hinges when Russia's voice makes it stop short.

"Oh Alfred, you're asking to meet with me? I never thought this day would come!"

Her whole body tenses. Part of her wants to barge in that second to stop this from happening. The other part instructs her to listen with cold intensity. Obeying the latter half she carefully presses her ear to the door.

There is a long pause of silence on Russia's end. Finally he says something, a bit too quietly for her to hear, then, "Where do you want to meet me?"

Belarus concentrates everything into listening. If she can just find out where he wants to meet big brother... Russia starts reciting an address and Belarus catches each syllable and seals it firmly into her memory. She has the location.

Silently she begins to creep away, heading towards her room. She has to get a few things for the trip. It is obvious to her that Russia is simply being misguided. She will talk to him, yes, of course she will. He will still receive his scolding for daring to look at someone that isn't her, to kiss said scum. But perhaps her message will be that more effective if she gives it after offering him America's head on a silver platter.

~.

Russia sits down and broods. What should he do? America wants a straight answer from him about choosing him. Honestly Russia had been hoping this would never come up. He doesn't want to talk about it. America will probably laugh in his face. How can someone who has so many people in his life understand? He'll also be upset to say the least, maybe angry.

After a moment of indecision Russia decides to fall back on a second opinion and calls Italy. Even if he is having issues with Germany right now he still has more experience on such matters.

Italy answers sounding almost reluctant. "Hello Russia."

"Italy, I need to ask your opinion about something."

Italy sounds a bit relieved and his voice immediately brightens. "Oh, sure, no problem! Ask away."

Russia thinks about how best to word it. "Alfred wants to talk to me about something... And he insists on an honest answer. I feel that it might be better to lie than tell the truth because if I tell him the truth... Well I feel like he'll be really quite violently upset at me about it."

"Ve? Well..." Italy considers it for a moment. "Heh, well I guess now I get to do the advice turning Russia! If he doesn't like you when you are honest with him then he doesn't really care about you. I mean, it can't be that big of a deal right?"

Of course Russia can't say that America doesn't love him and so it's a little more complicated than that. "Mmm...I just don't know how to tell him. It's hard for me to be so open."

Italy's voice is warm and encouraging. "It might be hard, but just do your best! Be as honest about your feelings or the situation as you can be. I'm sure America will be alright as long as you do."

Russia frowns uncertainly. "I guess... That reminds me, have you gone to see Germany yet?"

Italy sounds panicked. "V-ve? Um, n-no not yet... I... I just was thinking I might give him a little time, that's all! I'm sorry!"

Russia raises an eyebrow. He sounds suspicious. "Well don't wait too long. And let me know if you need any help. I will give any assistance I can."

"Th-thank you Russia..."

"That is all for now. I will talk to you later, da?"

"Si, ciao Russia, and best of luck!"

"Thank you. До свидания."

Russia hangs up. Well, it seems he was going to be even more behind on his work. Oh well, his boss has no choice but to forgive him. He's a bit concerned about Belarus though. He had promised to spend time with her but he would have to leave immediately to make the appointment.

Grabbing some things from his office he quietly walks out of the room. He looks around cautiously, afraid that Belarus will appear at any moment. She doesn't seem to be around... Maybe he had gotten lucky and she had gone to her room. Russia jots out a quick note:

_Natalya,_

_Emergency came up, will be home in a day or two. I'll spend time with you then, I promise._

_Ivan _

Leaving it where she is sure to find it he silently sneaks out of the house. He's still not quite sure how he's going to deal with this conversation. Maybe he can distract America? Or perhaps only tell him part of the truth... Well, he will figure it out as he goes along.

~.

America looks up at the old brick building. Shattered and boarded up windows, old fashioned fire escape ladders, a bit of graffiti for pizazz. Way too awesome for its own good.

America finds that the door opens easily. A bit disappointing. He had hoped he might have to dramatically break it open. Entering, America is immediately struck by the silence. It's a little unnerving actually. Oh who cares, he's the hero, things like this are a piece of cake! It's not like there are g-ghosts or anything... America swallows hard and forces himself to lift his head high and continue walking.

Not far in he finds a small, pretty blue flower lying on the ground. Curious, he walks over and crouches down. There is a note attached to the flower.

_4th floor_

Had Russia already shown up? Whatever, didn't matter. It actually doesn't surprise him too much that Russia had arrived before him and left some mysterious note. Sounds like something right down his alley. Though it is a bit odd that he had left this blue flower when sunflowers seemed to be his signature mark.

Looking around, America locates the stairs and starts to take them at a leisurely pace. He's still not crazy about this whole affair but he must know Russia's reasons. It is driving him mad. Reaching the fourth floor he tries the door. It sticks slightly and it requires a nudge to get it open.

Entering a narrow room that leads off into two hallways, America scans his surroundings. "Russia?"

He is met with silence and he frowns. Surely Russia isn't going to make him play hide and seek? Just then there is the creek of a door somewhere off to his right. "Aha, you've given yourself away."

America walks towards the sound. The creek comes again as he walks down a second hall. One of the doors stands slightly ajar. As he enters a desolate room he looks around for Russia. No sign. The frown deepens and he steps further into the room. "...Russia?"

This is starting to seriously give him the creeps. What if the building is haunted after all? A horrendous chill goes down his spine and he starts to throw a paranoid glance over his shoulder.

A demon is coming at him.

America screams and falls over. The phantom shrieks as it loses balance and trips over his fallen body. Hitting the ground, it shrieks again as it tries to get up, long white-blond hair falling across its face. America pushes himself away quickly, another scream lodged in his throat. He manages to swallow it back.

"Oh god please ghost don't hurt me!"

Belarus sits up, pushing the hair from her face. America wishes she would put it back. Her face is way scarier than a ghost. "B-Belarus, what the fuck are you doing here? You nearly scared me to death!"

Belarus looks around and snatches up a huge, wicked knife. "You're trying to steal big brother from me you filthy Блядь! I am going to butcher you and feed the pieces to the dogs!"

America's chest feels tight. "Wh-what? I... WHAT?! What is wrong with you? I am not stealing your brother! And I- Seriously, what the fuck?"

Belarus stands, knife raised. "You can't lie to me, I saw the picture. Once I kill you then big brother won't go sneaking off anymore and he'll fall in love with me!"

America is frozen with disbelief. This woman is insane! "I am not trying to steal your brother! He's the one who has been harassing me for weeks!"

Belarus shakes her head violently. "Lies! Big brother would never pursue an ugly idiot like you when he has me!"

America is left a bit miffed. "I am not an ugly idiot! Just because you have some personal issues doesn't mean you can go around insulting people. And really, has it occurred to you that he is your brother? This is your brother we are talking about here!"

Belarus takes a step forward. "Such things are inconsequential in the face of love. I don't care if he is my brother, I love him and some day we will be married, married, married! And I won't let some hamburger eating fool like you stand in the way of our happiness!"

She lunges at him and he scrambles out of the way, avoiding a quick succession of slashes by a hair. Belarus lets out a frustrated growl. "Stay still and your death will be quick!"

America stumbles to his feet. "As if I'm going to let you kill me over Russia!"

It would be easy enough to stop her. She might be a psycho but he is stronger. Still, he doesn't really want to beat her up if he doesn't have to. Russia might kill him or something and it doesn't sit well with his hero code.

Right, he'll just remove himself from the situation for the time being. America prepares himself and when Belarus charges again with a battle cry he is ready for her. Intercepting her striking arm part way through its arc and grabbing her shoulder, he is able to stop her momentum. He squeezes her arm until she lets go of her knife. Then with one mighty shove he sends her flying across the room. He kicks the knife in the opposite direction and makes a break for the door. He is totally focused, body moving on its own. His mind alerts him a pinch too late that he should have picked up the knife instead of leaving it for Belarus. No time for that now. Had to get to the stairs. Behind him he can hear Belarus scream something that sounds like his name. A shiver goes down his spine. What a terrifying woman!

Turning a corner he hits something quite solid and jumps back, body poised to attack. It's a very surprised Russia.

"Ah, here you are. I was wondering why you would want to meet on the fourth floor. It is also strange you left a blue flax. My sister loves those."

From a place far too close for comfort is the sound of a door being thrown open hard enough to hit the wall. "What was that?"

America grabs Russia's coat. "Your sister Belarus is here and she's trying to kill me! You have to make her calm down!"

Russia looks past his shoulder, eyes going wide. "...There's only one problem Alfred."

America looks back as the sound of an infuriated Belarus gets ever closer. "What?"

When America looks back at Russia he sees there are tears in his eyes. "I'm really afraid of her!"

America looks at him in disbelief. "What!?"

Belarus suddenly appears, eyes blazing. "America! Stay away from my brother!"

Russia takes a step back. "B-Belarus, how did you...?"

Belarus points the knife at him, getting closer. "I went out to do some shopping and saw a picture of the two of you ki- Hmph. Well, I rushed back to the house to scold you when I heard you talking to that Блядь. I decided that if I killed him then you would understand that he is all wrong for you and that you should be with me!"

America looks from the trembling Russia to the demonic Belarus. This is one dysfunctional family.

Belarus puts out her hand. "Step away from America and come with me this instant big brother. I shall deal with your behavior once we return home. Come quietly and I will leave this filth in peace for the time being."

Russia swallows hard. It seems he has no choice. He doesn't want her to hurt Alfred. Alfred would probably even prefer not having to deal with this. Russia starts to take a step forward. It takes both siblings by surprise when America steps in front of him.

"What right do you have to tell him what to do? He obviously doesn't want to go. Not that I blame him, you're pretty fucking scary you know that? You're going to punish him for doing what he wants? I mean, no matter how you look at it even if you're in love with him, which is seriously messed up, he is not in love with you. You can't shove that down his throat and expect him to meekly obey just because you've decided. Have you ever even considered his feelings?"

Russia looks at the back of America's head in stunned silence. Was America really defending him? But why?

Belarus sputters for a moment. "Shut... Shut up! How dare you? You don't know him or me or anything! Don't pretend to be so high and mighty! It's none of your business. Someday big brother will realize that I am the one he is destined for, I know it!"

America pushes up his glasses. "Does he know that?"

Belarus's face turns bright red with rage. "Shut up, shut up, shut up! Big brother, come here this instant so we can go home!"

America shakes his head. "He has business with me. Go home by yourself."

"Ivan, ignore him and come to me!"

America puts up an arm. "Don't you dare go with her Russia. She can't tell you what to do unless you let her. She's the one who doesn't know what is and isn't her business."

Belarus stomps her foot, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. "How dare you? Big brother! How can you let him talk to me like that? Come with your loving sister! I won't even scold you, just come home with me!"

Whole body shaking, Russia responds in a tiny voice. "N-no."

Belarus's eye twitches. "...What did you just say to me?"

America lowers his arm and places it on his hip. "You heard him."

She begins to tremble with rage. "This... harlot has corrupted your mind! That's okay big brother, your darling Natalya will save you from his evil lies. I'll kill him and give you his heart if you covet it so much!"

She comes flying down the hallway and America grabs a hold of Russia, pulling him after him. "Come on!"

America looks around and curses. He had gone the wrong way. No matter, if he can just find a room that has a fire escape...

Russia glances back. "A-Alfred she's catching up!"

America finally ducks into a room just as Belarus is reaching out to claw at Russia's back. They fall against the door heavily.

"Lock it!"

Russia obeys as America hurries over to the window. Perfect, a fire escape. Only the hero could have such amazing luck! He starts to pry the window open. Rust makes it stick but he finally forces it open with one final push.

Russia closes his eyes, heart pounding, pressed firmly against the door. Belarus is banging relentlessly, the door knob shaking violently. He knows that she can get into a room given enough time. He has seen her do it before.

"Okay Russia, let's get the fuck out of here!" America starts to crawl out of the window and onto the landing.

Russia takes a few steps forward and is held back. A chill going down his spine as he turns and sees the bottom part of his scarf stuck in the door. No... Oh no.

America is about to go down the first set of stairs when he notices Russia isn't coming. Part of him tells him to just go, Russia be damned. If only he could make himself listen to this part. He hurries back to the window.

"Russia, what the hell are you doing? Get over here!"

Russia is tugging helplessly at his scarf. "I- I can't! My scarf is stuck!"

"Just leave it!"

Russia shakes his head. "No! I can't! It was a gift from Katyusha. I can't leave it behind!"

Once again part of America tells him it isn't worth it. Russia is screwed and that's his problem. Once again he can't listen to this part. He crawls back into the room and heads for the door.

"Get ready to run, understand me?"

Without a second to think about how insane he must be he unlocks the door and opens it. It slams against him as Belarus tries to shove it open. "AMERICA!"

She swipes at him with the knife and he reaches up to block it. There is a sting, must have nicked him, and he finally manages to grab her wrist, trying to shove her back with the door. He looks over and sees Russia is still standing there stupidly.

Oh for the love of... "Ivan, move your ass!"

The words jolt Russia to his senses and he rushes towards the window. Belarus struggles to break America's grip on her wrist. America hadn't wanted to do this but... Oh well. He throws her hand back and punches her in the solar plexus. With an 'oof' she stumbles backwards and America hurries to the fire escape.

As he begins to descend the first set of steps his hand twinges. Blood is running down his palm, soaking the wrist of his shirt. Shit, she must have cut him more than he thought. Ignoring it for the moment, America simply focuses on getting down the stairs. He is on the last set when his injured hand spasms in protest and he loses his balance. With a startled cry he slips and starts to fall. Instead of hitting the ground he is caught by a strong pair of arms. After being set down his good hand is clenched tightly by Russia who starts to run. Now it is America who is blindly being dragged around. The sound of Belarus's cries of bloody murder pursues them.

When America feels like his lungs might burst Russia finally pulls into an alley and presses America tightly to his chest, the two of them panting against the wall until they have caught their breath. As the blind panic begins to drain from his body America feels a distinct sense of worry. He had punched Russia's sister and sort of insulted her in front of Russia. Should he apologize? Maybe he can sort of joke about it to distill the awkwardness?

"Your sister is terrifying. Mattie would make a way cuter sister than her."

Okay maybe that wasn't the right thing to say. Wincing he looks up at Russia. Russia doesn't look angry. In fact he looks confused.

"You came back for me. Why?"

America blinks. That had never even occurred to him. "Why? Well that's a stupid question. Because I'm the hero of course. I can't leave someone behind. And I sounded really cool when I was standing up to Belarus for you right?"

Russia shakes his head. "Stupid... why are you such a stupid person?"

America bristles. "I just saved you! How dare you call me stupid?"

Russia tilts his chin up. "It was meant as a compliment."

He leans down and kisses America. The unexpected action makes America stiffen. Russia runs his fingers through America's hair then presses him forward, deepening the kiss. America puts his hands flat against Russia's chest, trying to push him off.

He finally pulls away and rubs his forehead against America's. "Thank you."

America flushes. "I was just doing my duty that's all...And you're way too close, back off."

Russia kisses his nose, ignoring him as always. "Not only did you save me from Belarus but you called me Ivan for the first time. I'm very happy. Let me do something for you."

Had he called Russia by his human name? It must have just slipped. It's not like it was a conscious thing he did at the time. "That's really not necessary."

Russia finally puts some room between them and America feels relieved. "Of course it is. I know, how about I buy you some of that horrible food you like so much?"

America raises an eyebrow. "It's not horrible...So you'll buy me fast food? As much as I want? Whatever I want?"

Russia nods cheerfully. "Anything."

America finally shrugs. "Fine, as long as you're paying."

Russia releases him and notices a splotch of red on his coat. "Are you bleeding?"

That's right, he had forgotten about it in their mad dash. "Oh I guess so. Let's see..."

He lifts his hand and frowns. "Hmm I guess your sister got me pretty good across the palm. Still, doesn't feel deep enough for serious damage. Sorry about your coat."

Russia is quick to shake his head. "This coat has seen more than its fair share of blood. But we must treat this. Or at least bandage it for the time being."

"Yeah, with what?"

Russia glances at his neck and America flushes again. "Oh no way! Find something else!"

Grabbing America's arm, Russia starts to unwind the bandages. "Do not be ridiculous Alfred. That cut has to be taken care of. Really this is quite convenient don't you think?"

America wants to protest but knows that it would be kind of lame to pass out from blood loss or something just because of some hickey. "Fine, I'll get it."

Russia continues to unwind it. "That is not necessary, I will take care of it. There we are, now give me your hand."

America keeps it close to his body. "I can take care of it myself."

Russia raises an eyebrow. "With one hand? Give it to me. It's the least I can do as you received it on my behalf."

With a groan of reluctance America holds his hand out. "Whatever, knock yourself out."

Russia takes the injured hand and uncurls the fingers. Raising it up, he leans down and begins to lap at the blood with his tongue. America jumps, trying to tug his hand away from Russia. "What the fuck are you doing? That's sick!"

Russia looks at him, licking his lip. "Saliva naturally helps heal cuts. Relax Alfred, I know what I'm doing."

America stands uncomfortably, looking away and trying to ignore Russia's tongue on his hand. He winces slightly as it glides across the wound. When Russia begins to suck on his finger he growls in protest. Russia chuckles to himself and kisses the wounded palm.

"There we are, all clean. I could pour some vodka on it to be absolutely sure."

America shrinks away from the suggestion. "I'm sure it's fine. I'll get it properly cleaned later."

Russia shrugs. "If you say so, though it would only burn for a little while."

Russia begins to bandage America's hand quickly and efficiently. If there is something they are all good at, it is learning to bandage their injuries. Russia is particularly skilled at it. So much practice after all...

"There we are, that should do for the time being."

America flexes his fingers around the bandaged palm. "...Thank you."

Russia smiles softly at him. "Shall we go find one of your beloved fast food temples then?"

America scowls at the jab. However his face quickly reverts to an embarrassed expression. "Er, maybe you could go find one and bring it back here."

Russia leans down to get eye-level with America. "Does the hickey embarrass you that much?"

America stubbornly crosses his arms, lips pursed in silence. Such an awkward child. Russia touches the top of his head. "Very well."

He begins to take off his scarf. America jumps. Oh god, was he going to try and get America to give him another mark too? But no, Russia takes it off completely and puts it carefully around America, wrapping it snuggly around his neck. "Better?"

America is caught off guard. "What? But... you never take this off. You wouldn't even take it off to get away from Belarus."

Russia pinches his cheek softly, a show of endearment rather than punishment. "I am not giving it to you, merely lending it. It is a gift from my sister Katyusha and is my greatest treasure so do not get it dirty."

Still shocked, America nods stupidly. "Right..."

It's weird to see Russia without his scarf. In fact, America doesn't think he's ever seen it. No matter the season, the country they are in, the circumstances, he has never seen Russia without the scarf. Even that night he had bitten Russia's neck the scarf had been on his shoulders. Speaking of that bite, there is still the faintest tinge of discolored yellow where it had been.

Russia takes a hold of his hand. "Come along Alfred, you still wish to discuss certain things, correct?"

America digs his heels into the ground. "I don't want to be seen holding hands with you in public!"

Russia tightens his grip. "I simply do not want to lose you. I am buying you lunch and have agreed to answer your questions have I not? Just for a while."

America considers telling him that he had saved him from his insane sister. He decides to let it go. If it means getting the information he wants and a free meal to boot he supposes he can put up with it. As Russia had said, just for a while.

Hand in hand, America lagging behind slightly, the two emerge from the alley and begin their quest for a McDonald's.

* * *

Translations:

Блядь-bitch/whore, though it can also be used as the word damn.

**AN: **I feel a little bad for Belarus not going to lie. I like her actually. Though I think her 'scolding' is probably pretty violent. Aw, and America, he really can't help himself -laughs-

A Flax is the national flower of Belarus.


	20. Chapter 20

Congratulations to DMFAZINA for being my 400th reviewer~ I got so many reviews for the last chapter. Thank you, thank you, thank you so much!

So I've heard from friends that have traveled abroad that in some places in Europe fast food is kind of popular. It's supposed to be much better than the stuff in the U.S. at least. France has a three story McDonald's? -giggles- It's sort of strange because where I live at least it's a mark of shame if you admit you eat Mickie D's. (By the way, I only mention it as the go to place in my story not because it's the best because god knows it's not, it just screams AMERICA don't you think?)

Speaking of, I know the scenario that opens this chapter would probably never happen this way but it amuses me so that's that -laughs- I wonder, do the countries have diplomatic immunity when they're visiting each others homes? Sorry I'll stop now.

* * *

The woman acting as cashier in the McDonald's does not know how to react to the enormous man in front of her, holding out a sloppily written list. Chills of fear shoot through her body as her eyes nervously hover over the bloody hand print on his long tan coat. Dear lord, had he killed someone?

"Excuse me please, I said how much will this come to?"

The woman blinks. "Uh..."

Taking the list, she starts to punch in what she assumes is the order. He seems to speak English, why does he need a list? Then again there is a lot on here. Maybe he's doing a group run...? Surely someone who might be in trouble with the police wouldn't be in a McDonald's so casually asking for a list of food right? Right?

She hopes so. She really, truly hopes so.

"Um, that will come to about $30.29."

The man places bright pieces of paper on the counter. "This should cover it."

The woman stares at them. They sort of look like money but they're obviously from a foreign country. "What are these?"

The man looks at her as if she must be particularly dull, and worst of all seems to pity her for it. "Rubles of course."

She clears her throat and wonders if she will have to call the manager. "We, um... We don't take foreign currency sir."

His until now cheerful expression begins to darken and he suddenly looks terrifying. "Oh no? How inhospitable of you. I'm really afraid I have nothing else, I used the last of my U.S. Dollars earlier and haven't had a chance to get more. This isn't going to be a problem is it?"

On the verge of tears the woman quickly shakes her head. "N-no of course not! I-in fact I'll pay for it out of my own pocket as a show of peaceful international relations!"

He beams. "How sweet of you!"

She punches something into the cash register, heart heavy as she mentally deducts almost $31 from her next pay check. About to faint with fear the woman silently passes him the receipt.

"A-and will that be to go...?" She asks hopefully.

"But of course. As if I would waste a second longer than I have to in such a place."

Simultaneously insulted and relieved, she nods. "Y-you may wait for your food. Preferably far from the counter."

The man smiles sweetly, snatching up the receipt and rubles, and walks off a ways. Had... had she been robbed? She contemplates telling someone then decides that the lost money is worth it if she never has to see him again.

Russia can't believe his good fortune. Such a charming surprise. Despite its reputation, there were some genuinely kind people in the States. He gets to treat America without spending a single ruble.

Russia waits for the order number to be called. It is rather large so it will probably take a while. Meanwhile he scans the rather bleak establishment for his dear Alfred. He spots him sitting towards the back, shoulders hunched and trying to look inconspicuous. America is so funny.

Once he collects the order he walks to the back to collect his American sweetheart. "Alfred, shall we go?"

America takes the large bag from Russia as well as the soda. "Mm. Er, thanks."

His eyes dart around as if he's afraid someone had heard him. Russia laughs and slips an arm around his waist. "You know this place better than I. Where to?"

America flushes and tries to wriggle out of Russia's grasp. It proves rather difficult with his hands full and to his annoyance the arm remains. "I don't know. Let me think, where are we... Can you let go?"

"No."

America scowls and starts walking. Russia quickly falls in step with him. They squeeze through the door and America quickly thinks of a more secluded place so as few people as possible will witness them together.

"There's a park near here. Just a few blocks."

While America wants to power walk there as quickly as possible Russia restrains him to a normal speed. It's bugging the shit out of him. "It can not be comfortable for you to walk like this."

Russia giggles. "Oh, are you concerned? I'm perfectly alright."

America's embarrassed face is really too much. Russia slides his fingers beneath the waist of America's jeans, rubbing the hickey he knows is hidden there. America jabs his elbow violently into Russia's side. "Watch your hands!"

Russia withdraws his fingers and removes his arm. He rubs the spot where America had hit him. "You are so prickly."

America glares up at him. "I don't like being sexually harassed in public!"

As they stop to wait for a crosswalk Russia leans down. "So you like being sexually harassed in private?"

"That's not what I meant!" Alfred angrily begins sucking on his straw.

Russia watches him. "Are you sure you don't want me to hold one of those? Perhaps you shouldn't be straining your hand."

America softens ever so slightly. "I'm fine. I've endured worse."

Russia ruffles his hair affectionately. "So afraid to be vulnerable."

America begins to walk again as the light changes. "Hmph."

A few blocks later they reach the entrance of a park and delve in, America keeping an eye out for a secluded spot. He finally plops down on a bench half hidden by overgrown bushes and starts pulling out a burger. Taking a bite, he hums appreciatively. "These things really hit the spot!"

Russia sits next to America, becoming more self-conscious. The two sit in near silence for a while, interrupted by slurping, chewing, and the crinkling of the paper bag as America starts on his second burger.

"So."

The word breaks the silence like a sledge hammer.

"What's up with your sister?"

Russia fidgets. "My...? Belarus? I did not think that's what you wished to talk about."

America contemplates his burger. "No, not originally but let's say my curiosity has been peaked."

Russia picks up the edge of his scarf which rests on America's leg and starts to worry the material with his fingers. "I do not know what to say. She's really a very lovely girl. She's a bit... single minded and intense. Forward...I think is a word for it?"

America snorts. "A mild word."

Russia continues as if the interjection was not made. "Really she isn't like that all the time. I hope you don't think poorly of her. She cares too much."

America swallows a bite of burger. "She says she's in love with you. I don't know, if Matthew went psychotic like that on me I'd lock him away for his own good."

Russia starts to shake his head. "No, you don't understand. It's just..."

He grasps for the words, the means to explain it. "She... The three of us were alone for such a long time. There was big sister Ukraine and little sister Belarus and myself in a cold world and there was very little else. All we had was one another. And then time passed and for a while others joined us... and then all that remained was Belarus and myself. I think... Well, I can try to understand her feelings. Though I wish she did not have them. But she cares for me and I for her even if it is sometimes difficult."

America reaches into the bag slowly. "You don't love her like that right?"

Russia blushes and shakes his head again. "Nyet."

"Mm ...That's good. I don't know, I don't really get it but..." There is another pause. "The two of you are broken in very similar ways."

Russia looks at him questioningly. "I don't understand."

America looks at him, eyes meeting his firmly. "When I was defending you back there, I really meant it you know, what I said to her. But I wasn't just talking to her."

"I still don't..."

America sighs. "You're doing the exact same thing to me that she's been doing to you for who knows how long!"

Russia looks honestly taken aback by the accusation. "I am not doing anything of the sort!"

"Oh yeah? You've forcefully decided the two of us will be in love, you stalk me, and you violently harass the people in my life for so much as looking at me in a way you don't approve. So tell me, how is it different?"

Russia looks at his lap for a moment. Finally he lifts his head, bright eyed. "I have no desire to marry you and as far as I am aware I don't fill you with an overwhelming sense of dread simply by being in the same vicinity. Not to mention my sister's feelings have developed over a long period of time, coming from unusual circumstances that seemed to have warped her emotions."

America stares at him. "That's all of you've got huh?"

"Eh? Isn't that enough? I really don't think I'm like her at all."

America shakes his head, not sure how he can even begin to tell Russia the many, many ways in which he is horribly mistaken. "Whatever. Just think about all the super awesome sounding things I said to your sister and see if anything soaks in. I think, however, this is a good transition into why I called you in the first place. Why did you choose me? Other than the obvious reason of how super cool I am that is."

Russia's smile wavers slightly and he lets out an almost exasperated laugh. "You know, I fully intended to lie to you about it. I had many plausible reasons lined up, ones that might appeal to you in some form or another. But for protecting me, for coming back, for calling me by my human name, I will tell you the truth no matter what the consequences may be. I cannot help but feel you have earned it."

America shakes his soda, momentarily thinking he should have asked Russia to buy two. "I... Well. I suppose my heroic deeds are deserving of the truth. So let's hear it. Dazzle me."

There is a buzzing in Russia's skull. When had he last opened up like this, been so explicitly honest? It had been a long time... Maybe with Lithuania? The fear of rejection and mockery makes him queasy. Russia looks at his hands for lack of anywhere else to look, the near permanent smile vanishing completely. His voice is so soft it is hard for America to hear. "I decided we must fall in love because... I'm so terribly lonely."

It is not quite an unexpected answer. Somewhere in his mind America had been forming an inkling of an idea that Russia is probably lonely. Why else would Canada reminding him of Russia's sisters comfort him? Still, to have it put out so nakedly in the open takes him a bit off guard.

America opens his mouth then closes it, not sure what to say. Instead he takes another bite. While he would on most occasions think it is simply a trick—a lie after all—to pull on his emotions, there is a certain desperate pain in Russia's face that gives him pause. It is unmistakably an emotion that he himself has felt at times in his past, though not so deeply as the other.

Russia's gaze flickers almost shyly up to meet America's, the smile hesitantly coaxing its way back onto his face. "I am not very good at meeting people. Despite genuine efforts I have not been able to fully bridge the gap from acquaintances to friendship with any of the other countries except to very minimal degrees. For a long time I either ignored this distance or it simply did not bother me. I always enjoy it when we gather together. It is fun for me to watch everyone having so much fun. Usually I am content, but at some point it became a sincere wish to move from the fringe to the group. But I could never quite figure out how to go about it. My silence became oppressive. The pain grew, and I let it fester inside me with my other pains. What could I do about it? Nothing, and so it sat within me. The loneliness grew and now it makes me feel so tired. It is starting to drag me down, to crush me, and I fear it may affect me on more than a personal level soon. How can I be an avatar for such a large country when there are days I feel I may simply collapse into the snow and never stand again?"

Russia licks his lips nervously. America's eating has slowed to a crawl, attention completely captured by Russia. He knows the older nation is working his way into his reasons for choosing America specifically but he is an impatient creature.

As if making a final decision Russia nods and continues. "So I finally decided I would simply have to do something about it. Our bodies are hard to kill but part of us is certainly human. We must nurture these halves of ourselves even if it is undesirable. The loneliness had grown too big to simply push away with companionship though. That time had passed. I did not know what to do. And then...Well, I...I have noticed how happy some of the others seem in romantic relationships and of course I have seen my people in love in even the harshest of times. There are all the stories and movies and desires surrounding love. Love... It sounded like a golden bell in my ears when it finally occurred to me. How beautiful it seems. And I decided that for the first time in my life I was going to fall in love."

Russia's gaze turns away again. "It is difficult to know how to go about falling in love... While it is one thing to hear about it or see it, it is entirely different to feel it, and I have never experienced romantic love personally. I started by doing research on it, anything from those ridiculous romance tip articles to psychological documents. And so as I began to take notes I formed a basic idea of how it is meant to go. Soon it simply came down to finding a candidate to be the reciprocating lover."

The bag of hamburgers now sits forgotten in America's lap. "You thought you could research your way into falling in love? That's stupid!"

Russia looks hurt by the statement. "Why is it stupid? There is most definitely a certain pattern to most love stories."

America throws his hands up in exasperation. Isn't Russia supposed to be older than him? Why should he have to explain this? "If love was that simple then do you really think there would be so many lonely people in the world?"

Russia looks at him steadfastly. "They aren't trying hard enough. There is no way I can fail if I am so determined to accomplish my goal."

America is speechless. Is this for real? Russia looks so earnestly sure of his conviction. "You're just so-! Ugh, fine, okay. You concocted the formula for love. Why did you choose me?"

Once more Russia looks away, expression thoughtful. "Well... I decided right away that I would want someone who is my equal. While I have closer relationships with such countries as the Baltic brothers none of them would do as an actual partner. Still, I wanted someone I was more familiar with. Most countries were eliminated immediately due to poor or hostile political relationships or from a general dislike towards them on my part. China was originally my prime choice. However, we haven't been as close as we once were and he seems to make a point to disassociate himself from me. I understand, he's trying to establish himself as a decent country in the world and association with me can not be good for such a thing, da?"

There is some pain in the words, some bitterness. "It further occurred to me that with an individual like China, our politics were bound to get tied up and I have no desire for my lover to be anything but on a human level. No alliances, no treaties, nothing. Purely personal. I was really at a loss you know, after that. Who else could possibly fit the role? And then I thought of you. Before there had been an automatic red x over your face in my mind. At first it seemed terribly amusing that it had even occurred to me... and then it suddenly didn't."

Russia's voice pauses as a young couple walks by, laughing and teasing cheerfully. Russia watches them until they have disappeared from sight. "I suppose it seems confusing. We have been on bitter terms for a very long time. There has been much hate between us. But in a way that is perfect. Our governments are too distant to intermingle. You are more than qualified as my equal. The only other nation in the world to have ever earned the title 'superpower' and my greatest rival for decades. While it has usually been negative we have a lot of experience with one another and somewhere along the way it occurred to me that because we'd seen one another's uglier sides it might actually be beneficial. After all, we have already seen the worst of one another. So why not explore what the other is like at his best and we never have to be disappointed?

"There are other reasons as well. The longer I know you the more perfect you are. The fact that you are not one to fall in love puts me at ease. I thought perhaps there might be something wrong with me. Then there are the general things. I mean, you are amusing even though you don't mean to be half the time. Really you are quite cute which is something that is a more recent observation. And of course I can visit your house for warmer weather. While at first you seemed absolutely impossible as a candidate in the end you were the most ideal, even more so than China."

America doesn't know what to say. His mind is busy trying to digest all of this, to formulate a response of any kind. Russia, perhaps, could have—should have—stopped there but the words that have been frozen for so long are finally melting, spilling out faster than he can think them through. "Our mutual dislike in a way is what makes you such a perfect choice. For the reasons I have stated before but for another as well. I have never fallen in love, and to my knowledge no one has particularly loved me except Natalya. If I can make you of all people love me then I will absolutely prove that I am not unlovable."

These words are scalding on the previously overwhelmed America. "...If you can make me...You say you've never fallen in love so you don't even love me."

Russia taps the bench, answering reluctantly. "Well no, not yet. But that's also part of my plan. If I can get you to fall in love with me first and I see those feelings shining through your eyes it will make me fall in love with you in return. Or something like that. The power of perception."

America stares at his bandaged hand, anger growing. "I'm a fucking test?"

Russia blinks uncertainly. "Test?"

America stands abruptly, mouth set in a hard line. "You just want to prove you can make me love you? God what the fuck is wrong with you? Do you know how much shit I've had to deal with because of this? I got this cut because of you! It's bullshit!"

Russia starts to frown. Had America not been listening to everything else he has just said? That had been such a small part of it and it wasn't a 'test' so much as a personal goal. "I don't understand why you're upset America. You said you wanted to know why I chose you and I was as honest as I possibly could be."

America snorts. "Honest, yeah it was honest. Honestly crazy beyond reason, that's what! I'm not your toy! Who says I even want to fall in love with you anyway? You're right, you're nothing like Belarus. At least she actually cares about you. I'm just part of a puzzle for you to figure out!"

Russia is at a loss. America is perhaps too young. Why is he so angry? "I am not asking much Alfred. Please. If you can just try to fall in love with me then once I fall in love with you, we may end it."

America snaps at him. "It's not that easy! Love isn't so fucking easy Russia! God, don't you get it? Love isn't a switch to be flipped on and off at a whim. Haven't you learned that in all your love research? This isn't a science you can just perfect!"

Russia looks up at him, face melancholy. "Why not? Why can't it be if I want it enough?"

"It doesn't work that way! It just doesn't work! Love isn't a bandaid one puts on to fix things, it's hard and cruel with a chocolate coating smothered in ecstasy to keep you coming back for more. Look, this is stupid Russia! Do yourself a favor and give it up already."

Russia shakes his head. "N-no I can't... I have to have this... I need this Alfred. Please." America scoffs. "Please Alfred! I'm trying so hard. I...I don't love you yet but I'm starting to actually like you so it must be working!"

America looks at him for a moment. Tears stand in Russia's eyes, expression begging him to stay. He looks away. "Thanks for lunch."

He starts to unwind the scarf around his neck. Russia launches to his feet and quickly grabs America, holding him, crushing him from behind. "I'm begging you to try and at least understand this from my perspective. That's all. It seems you feel alienated by my motives and I can not claim to fully understand why but please... Just...I really need you Alfred. It has to be you."

America stiffens at the words and the space between his shoulder blades twitches violently. "Let go of me!"

Russia's arms gradually loosen and slip away. "I will leave you alone for a few days. Think about everything I have said. Think about how honest I have been when I could have lied to keep you. Do not turn away so quickly. I will let you keep my scarf until then, so I at least have one last excuse to see you. Maybe I have simply made a mess of this from the beginning, and I do not claim my motives are pure or remotely noble, but it has all been an earnest effort. Goodbye Alfred."

America almost turns to glare at him but he doesn't want to see the tears that may still be lurking in the other's eyes. "Fine. Don't hold your breath."

Shoving his hands deep into his pockets America walks away. As if he could ever understand Russia. Such twisting logic would tie his thoughts into hopeless knots, impossible perhaps to untangle. He doesn't want to see. Ignoring the itch that starts to spread like wildfire across his back, America heads for home.

Russia watches him go. He feels vulnerable and raw. He had opened up and had the door slammed in his face. He doesn't even have his scarf to hide behind.

What will he do if America completely rejects him? His newest strategy won't work unless America is still somewhat in the game. It has to be him. That had become apparent over these last few weeks. If honesty will not work would he be required to use force after all? Would that even work?

Russia is sure he has some things written in his notebook but the entire ordeal has left him feeling rather hollow. Perhaps America is not the only one who needs some time for a breather. All he wants is to return to the familiarity of his home. But what if Belarus is there waiting for him? He does not have the strength to face her.

Russia is alone, unsure of where to go from here.

* * *

**AN:** Everyone was so excited about how the last chapter ended I felt a little guilty as I wrote this. Just a little.

You know what truly bothers me about America in this chapter? He has Russia buy him $30 worth of McDonald's (I don't even want to know how one person spends that much on themselves buying fast food), then doesn't even eat it all and pretty much leaves it on the ground -laughs- That woman's hard earned money is for naught! The equivalent exchange for that meal price is 918.825 Rubles for anyone who is curious.


	21. Chapter 21

Hey everyone~ So this really has nothing to do with the story, I just thought I might ask. I'm wondering if there are any stories out there that focus on Germany kidnapping or manipulating Finland around WWII era? Just wondering. If you do happen to know and wouldn't mind sharing could you message me? Thanks~

* * *

America slams the door behind him as returns home, pacing restlessly. He begins to formulate an entire plan. First he would burn what's left of all the stupid sunflowers Russia had sent. Then he would get hammered on cheap beer. After that he would call everyone in his phone and tell them what a complete and utter asshole Russia is. That would show him. He would start this instant!

Instead he collapses onto the couch, removing his glasses and burying his face into the crevasse where the cushion meets the backing. Stupid Russia causing all sorts of hell in his life for stupid reasons. He stretches out and closes his eyes.

In the end none of them ever love him unless there is something to be gained. Whatever, it's not like he had really expected Russia to actually care about him and it's not like he wanted him to anyway. The last thing he needs in his life is Russia's cheap imitation of love.

'If I wanted someone to pretend to love me I would just pull out my check book,' America thinks bitterly. Not that he can do that much anymore even if he wanted to. Hard times as they say.

So what if Russia is lonely? All of them have their problems and he is not going to be some pawn for Russia. When Russia finally contacts him again he will throw the bastard's scarf in his face, tell him to go fuck himself, and that will be the end of that. In fact the jerk is lucky he doesn't burn his scarf or something. But he wouldn't. After all, he intends to show he's the bigger man in this situation.

Anger churning inside him, America contemplates calling someone to blow off steam. England maybe? Then again after their last conversation it might be best not to even mention Russia to him. Canada? He had dumped his problems on his brother last time though. Mattie probably doesn't mind but he doesn't want to be one of those lame guys who just complains all the time. Japan is definitely out of the question. He lays there for a long time wracking his brain for a fourth option, his anger quietly waning. Eventually even finding someone to complain to is forgotten. His mind wanders to tranquil seas and open skies. Feeling calmer, America pushes away the stinging ugliness of reality and slips into the world he knows and loves best; The world of dreams.

~.

Russia knocks and waits apprehensively. After a short pause the door starts to swing open. "Is that you again Pol- Russia?"

Russia smiles weakly. "Hello Lithuania."

Lithuania looks surprised. Rather then becoming nervous as Russia had expected, his expression brightens. "Hello Russia, what brings you here? Ah, wait, would you like to come in?"

Not expecting it to be this easy, Russia nods mutely. Lithuania stands aside and allows Russia to enter his house. "Oh? Where is your scarf?"

Russia starts to reach towards his neck. "It is with Alfred."

Lithuania absolutely beams. "I can't even begin to tell you how pleased I was when I heard about the two of you. I really never thought you would settle your differences. It's absolutely wonderful! Here, you can sit down, just go through there. I'll make some coffee."

Lithuania walks off and Russia stares after him. He was happy? Ah... It had totally slipped his mind. Lithuania lived with America for years. It had always bothered him when he asked about America after a meeting during the time Russia had taken him back. Why hadn't he thought to ask his former ex about America? It might be too late now but it couldn't hurt to see if he can learn anything.

Russia finds the room Lithuania had indicated and sits, waiting anxiously for the other to return. Soon Lithuania enters the room holding a small tray. He places it before Russia and laughs a bit nervously. "Just like old times. So what brings you here? Not in trouble are you?"

His eyes turn to the blood on Russia's coat. Russia looks down and shakes his head. "Oh this is nothing to worry about. I, um, well I'm having some family problems at the moment. I guess you could say Natalya and I aren't seeing eye to eye and I decided to stay away from home for the time being. I think distance would do her some good. Is it possible I might be able to stay here for a little while?"

Lithuania stirs his coffee. "Er... Sure I...I suppose so, if it will help. I hope Belarus isn't too upset is she?"

Russia has always appreciated Lithuania's concern for his sister. Though it has always confused him to some degree. "Mm... I, well it's hard to say with her but in time she's sure to get over it. ...I-I hope."

"That's good. I hope she's alright..."

Russia grimaces. "Oh, and on the off chance she asks if you know where I am please don't tell her I'm staying with you. Or that you've even seen me."

"Ah, sure if that's what you want. Out of curiosity, why don't you stay with America?"

Russia sighs. "We're having an argument and I'm not seeing him at the moment either."

He pulls his cup of coffee closer and starts to reach into one of his pockets. Lithuania nods to the cup. "I put vodka in it already so you don't have to add any. I remember you liked it that way."

Russia smiles appreciatively at him. This is why Lithuania had always been his favorite. "Thank you."

Lithuania frowns thoughtfully. "It's a shame you're having a fight with both of them... It's nothing too serious is it?"

Russia sips the tea, trying to decide how to answer. Well, he has Italy for romantic advice. Lithuania can be for America advice. "It will blow over, he just has to sort through some things."

Looking thoughtful, Lithuania nods. "Well, he can be quite stubborn. Don't worry though. Usually America doesn't stay angry for very long. It's his natural disposition to be on the cheerful, energetic side. I'm sure the two of you will patch things up in no time. May I ask, when did the two of you officially hook up?"

Russia covers his cough in another sip of the heavily alcohol laced coffee before answering. "Right before the World Conference."

"Oh, you really haven't been together too long. Well that makes sense. All relationships take a little time to work all of the kinks out of."

Russia runs a finger around the rim of his cup before setting it down. "Yes I'm sure you're right. Say... you lived with him for quite a while. Are there any tips you have for cheering him up?"

Lithuania runs a hand through his hair. "Hm. Well, really he's the kind that is easy to please. It doesn't take much. A little gift, a word of praise, he usually brightens right up."

"I see. What kind of gifts in particular?"

Lithuania laughs. "Oh I, um, I'm not sure. He likes chocolate quite a bit if I remember. Oh, I know, when I visited him last he talked about movies for a long time so he might like something like that."

"Yes, I made a gift of a movie not too long ago. He never said if he watched it or not now that I think of it."

"I don't think he means to be thoughtless, I think he honestly doesn't think of things like that," Lithuania says slowly. "It's best to prompt him a bit if you would like to know. His head is just always in the clouds. Such a dreamer that one. He used to sit at the window for hours sometimes, looking amused, and angry, and sad, and smug. Once I asked him what he was thinking about. He smiled up at me and said 'Just dreaming.' No wonder he was so drawn to space."

Lithuania chuckles then stops short, not sure if that's still a sore spot for Russia. Russia smiles encouragingly. "Well as long as I'm here you should give me blackmail material to use on him later."

The wording Russia uses gives Lithuania pause. Russia laughs lightheartedly. "I'm kidding. But I would like to hear some stories. I know America won't share any with me. He always wants to look like the cool hero."

Lithuania smiles again. "That's true. Let me think... Do you know about his ghost problem yet?"

Russia raises an eyebrow. "Ghost problem...?"

Lithuania begins to giggle and shakes his head. "He's absolutely obsessed with ghosts but they also terrify him. There were so many times he would read ghost stories late into the night and scare himself so badly he wouldn't be able to sleep. He always wanted me in the same room with him while he was reading them and the way he would react over those silly stories... Usually he would stay up all night checking on and jumping at every little sound but on a few occasions I would wake up and find that he had crawled into my bed. It was really too adorable."

After a second Lithuania's eyes go wide and he waves his hands. "O-oh it wasn't like that though! Um, I mean, he was just sleeping in my bed because he was afraid! Nothing ever happened, really."

Though his eyes do narrow, Russia chooses to believe him. "My, that's quite interesting. Typical Alfred, having such a silly weakness. It's really too precious."

He really hopes he gets a chance to exploit that.

Lithuania stares at Russia for a moment. He's not sure he's ever heard such alien words come out of his mouth. Still, it makes him happy that the man is finally in a functional relationship. Perhaps now he has a chance with Belarus? Though of course he's also pleased for Russia. He has always seemed a bit... lonely. And America was quite kind to him. He's bound to be a good influence on Russia.

Lithuania stands. "Well, we can continue our conversation in a little while. Let me set up a room for you."

Russia picks up his coffee again, looking up at Lithuania gratefully. "Thank you Lithuania. I really do appreciate it."

Lithuania smiles kindly at him. Yes, America is sure to be a good influence.

~.

America wakes up reluctantly. He's still tired, but something is seriously bothering him. The more the irritation persists the further he is brought out of his much needed escapism. It itches... It feels like bugs are crawling on him.

This thought is enough to make his eyes open wide, a shiver of disgust going through him. The moment consciousness fully returns his back feels like it is home to a thousand spiders. Another shudder of revulsion goes through him and he sits up, desperately pulling at his shirt. The skin is mercifully bug and spider free but no matter how much he claws and scratches at it the itch refuses to be soothed. America can't help but think this is what it must feel like for a drug addict coming down.

It's completely unbearable. But to give in to it is a very bad thing. Very bad, nothing good ever comes of it. No please, please just stop, just stop...

America squirms angrily against the couch. He slides off and starts rubbing his back against the corner of it to no avail. He begins to scratch violently at his back again willing it to stop. He can't acknowledge it, he can't, because if he does then he is royally screwed. He knows how this will play out, the way it always does. To come to terms with the itch will make it stop and it's so hard to deny anything that offers sanctuary from this hell. This is all Russia's fault! Why did he have to go and say he needed America? If he had just left that part out...

He just can't give in, he simply can not do it, but...

It's too much. "FUCK! I want to fix Russia!"

Saying it out loud brings cool relief that eases the itch to a tolerable level. America slams his fist against the ground angrily. "I can't do this! There is no way I am getting into that trap again!"

A voice speaks in his mind, smooth and seductive. _And why not? Fix him. I want to do it. _

America shakes his head. "No, I absolutely refuse to try and fix Russia. He's such a bastard, he doesn't deserve it. After all of the hell he's put me through I can't think of anyone I want to help less!"

_But it would feel so good to fix him. I can do it._

America scowls. "Oh yeah, because it worked so well when I tried to fix Korea, Vietnam, Iraq-"

The voice continues coaxingly. _Those times were different. What about when I fixed France and England? Germany? Japan?_

"That was always after a war. They asked me to help them rebuild or it was my heroic responsibility to help."

_Ah, but hasn't Russia asked me for help as well? He needs me._

This gives America pause. Yes, actually in a way Russia did ask him for help. At least he said he couldn't do this without him. "But I don't want to. It's exhausting fixing other countries. Especially when they're as messed up as that psycho. Besides, it takes resources and-"

_This time it's on a personal level. All I need is my awesome self. I can single-handedly fix Russia. Doesn't that sound delicious?_

"Maybe delicious is a bit strong..." Self-consciously he realizes that despite saying this he had started licking his lips at the thought.

_Fix him. Fix him. FIX HIM._

America puts his hands over his ears. "But I don't want to! This is ridiculous... I refuse to fix him!"

The itch between his shoulder blades returns with a vengeance and America cries out helplessly.  
"Fine! But what exactly am I supposed to do? Russia wants me to fall in love with him. I don't want to let him have sex with me or something and I don't want to make him think I've fallen in love with him just to do it."

The voice is soothing. I_ don't need to do anything like that. He told me himself he is simply lonely. That he wants companionship. He has merely overestimated his need for love. Friendship should suffice if there is enough of it. If I were to show him how to properly interact with other people, help him make friends..._

America starts to nod as it clicks together. "...I would be his friend and show him how to act properly, he makes more friends, isn't lonely... Then he realizes that as he doesn't actually feel anything for me he can give up his 'we're going to fall in love' thing. He admits we were never lovers...."

_And I win. I prove that I am so great I can even fix Russia._

"The other countries will be super impressed and will regret they ever made fun of me! Alright then!"

Yes, it makes sense. It's not a bad plan.

"I, Alfred F. Jones-"

_I, the United States of America-_

"_will fix Russia!_"

America starts to laugh, loudly and arrogantly. "Why am I so amazing? Damn it I'm a genius!"

_Yes, I am. _

* * *

**AN: **Ah, the voice of the U.S. has spoken... And it has a 'fixer' personality. -laughs- Think of that as something all of the countries have. Some just listen to them more than others.

Also, Lithuania is adorable~ Love him so much. And it cracks me up that Russia thinks of him as his ex. But I really, really don't get his crush on Belarus. He must like abusive partners. Masochist?

Coffee with vodka sounds absolutely disgusting.


	22. Chapter 22

Goodness it feels like a long time since I got one of these babies up. School will do that to you. Midterms... No. Just no. -laughs- Hurm, I felt like there was something I needed to say... But nothing comes to mind anymore so I guess you should just enjoy~

* * *

Russia stares out the window of the temporary room Lithuania had provided into the night sky, twinkling with more stars than he could count in his entire lifetime. It is rather lovely but it is not his sky. If his plan failed what was he to do? He had put so much effort into this, so much time. Was he to crawl home after enduring America's scathing rejection and try to beg Belarus not to kill him?

He wonders if there is some way to make America love him if not in the conventional way. He has read about such things as Stockholm Syndrome... Ah, but he is getting far too ahead of himself. America had not even given him a response yet.

Russia truly hopes that somehow a miracle shall occur and America will allow him to continue wooing him. Somehow he feels that if the love is violently forced it will not ease the empty ache of his loneliness. Perhaps it will make it worse. This thought makes him uneasy. And besides, he wants to be loved back in return. That's a very important detail. A forced love isn't good enough. America must fall in love with him.

Such a stubborn country... But Russia is determined. No matter what he must do his best. So far his results have been positive. It seems some people like him better when he's with America. Well, not Belarus. Still, Italy has begun to be his friend out of concern for America. And Lithuania seems to have warmed to him considerably. It's a good sign. He doesn't need all of them to like him. If his sister, England, Japan, or others despised him it didn't matter so long as he could form some strong connections. Alfred is the key.

A lover. Friends. An end to loneliness. Things as beautiful as the night sky. How he aches for them.

Russia had once heard something about wishing on stars. A rather silly notion. Still... Perhaps it couldn't hurt.

'Please...Please give me the chance to make him love me.'

The stars twinkle in response.

~.

America crumples up a piece of paper and tosses it, making a perfect shot into a waste basket hoop. Thinking is a pain so he needs to do something to help distract him. He's been up for hours thinking, his mind a whir of activity. How should he go about befriending Russia? Well, that shouldn't be too hard. But how to properly _fix_ Russia without bringing it to his attention?

As much as he doesn't want to he might have to let Russia continue with his whole crusade of love for just a little longer. So long as he can keep some third date from happening he should be safe. America will do 'friends only' type stuff with him and start to give him an idea of how not to be an enormous creep. Which he is.

After sinking another paper ball into the waste basket America pulls out his phone and starts to dial. It hadn't really been that long since the Russian's confession but the sooner he gets to work the better. 'Space' and 'time to think' are a waste of time in America's book. Action is always the best course of, well, action.

America hits send, buzzing with anticipation. Time for the hero to step in.

~.

When Russia gets up the next morning Lithuania is already making breakfast. Latvia stands next to him, face paling at the sight of Russia. Lithuania smiles as Russia enters to the kitchen. "Good morning! Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, thank you." He looks at Latvia curiously, "Greetings. What are you doing here?"

Latvia winces, his voice weak. "I was just... I was just visiting... Lithuania, you didn't tell me he was here. Kāpēc?"

Lithuania lowers the heat of his frying pan. "Matote... I hadn't gotten to it yet..."

Latvia gives him a look as if he has betrayed him. Russia walks over and puts a hand on his head. "It seems you never get any taller Latvia. You're just so teeny tiny!"

Latvia looks up at him in distress. "It's because you keep pushing on my head..."

Russia laughs and keeps pressing down. Lithuania clears his throat, coming to his brother's rescue. "Breakfast is ready."

Lithuania serves the two of them, Russia looking chipper and Latvia pouting. As Lithuania sits down to his own plate he looks up at Russia. "Oh, I was sort of thinking about it last night and America also really likes ice cream. It always seemed to bring a smile to his face."

Ice cream... "Really? That's good to know. Do you know what kind?"

Lithuania chuckles. "If it says 'ice cream' on the container and isn't sugar or fat free he'll probably like it."

Latvia watches this exchange with something akin to disbelief. Why is Lithuania getting along so well with Russia? And why is he in Lithuania's house? And what does any of this have to do with America? Latvia silently eats his food, head spinning with questions but too intimidated to ask.

It's weird, watching the two of them talk. He's never seen his brother so at ease with Russia. He's also never seen Russia seem so keen to listen to Lithuania, his smile perhaps not as shallow as usual. He's not sure what to make of it but it's an unusual development. He wishes Estonia were here. He would surely have some astute understanding of the situation immediately. Latvia simply eats and listens as the two of them talk more about America.

Lithuania is halfway through a story about a behind-closed-doors dinner party America had hosted with Al Capone as the guest of honor when Russia's cell phone goes off. He looks at it wearily. Belarus had been calling continuously, leaving message after message that he is too afraid to listen to. His boss had called as well. He too had been ignored. But the name on the caller ID makes his breath catch.

Russia stands abruptly as he answers, taken off guard.

"Привет, hello?"

His stomach knots uncomfortably. Is America calling so soon to deliver his ultimatum? Russia quickly begins to think of reasons to convince America not to flat out reject him ranging from guilt to threats. Crude perhaps, but he's feeling a bit desperate. But if the call is unexpected the first words from America are even more shocking.

"Hey Ivan," the voice on the other end practically purrs.

Ivan. He called him Ivan.

"Y-yes, hello... Hello Alfred."

On the other end America paces restlessly in his living room. "So I know you wanted to give me some time to think about what you said but I think I've thought about it plenty. I really want to" (_fix you_) "talk to you about it some more in person. Will you come?"

America does not sound angry. He does not sound ready to start a war or even a fight. For once he sounds rather calm and rational. "D-da. I'll come. I, um, I'll be there as quickly as possible."

"Great! Give me a call when you're close. Be seeing you soon Ivan."

His name again. How lovely it is to hear him say his name. "You can count on it Alfred."

Russia closes his phone, beaming. Lithuania looks at him expectantly. "That was America? Good news?"

Russia walks between Lithuania and Latvia and hauls them to their feet, hugging them both tightly. "He wants to see me! To talk to me! And he didn't even sound angry or anything."

Lithuania beams. "That's wonderful! Didn't I tell you that he doesn't stay upset for very long?"

Latvia makes a very faint whining sound and wishes Russia would stop touching him.

And Russia radiates relief. It seems hope is not yet lost.

~.

America drinks another cup of coffee to keep alert. All this lack of a decent amount of sleep is really starting to effect him. He's relieved when there's finally a knock on the door. Behind it is a very nervous, very tentatively hopeful Russia.

He smiles his best heroic smile. "Come in."

Russia enters and America closes the door behind him, buzzing with excitement. Where to start, where to start... Before America has a chance to say anything Russia quickly starts digging through his pockets. He pulls out four large bars and offers them.

"Here. For you."

Puzzled, America takes them. Russia explains even as America recognizes them for what they are: slightly melted chocolate bars. "They're an apology as I seem to have offended you. They're from Belgium and Switzerland. Apparently they both make quality chocolate and those are supposed to be some of their best products."

A peace offering, America realizes. Admittedly chocolate would have softened him a bit even if he hadn't decided to fix Russia. This was some good stuff too. Expensive as hell. He puts three aside and starts to unwrap one. "Thanks, appreciate it."

Though he is taken off guard that Russia even knows he likes chocolate. After a moment of thought it occurs to him he had probably just talked about it at one point or another in front of Russia. Russia seems pleased as he starts to eat it.

America sits on the couch and bites off a corner, letting it melt for a moment in the center of his tongue before chewing. Russia watches him anxiously. How he hates being in this position. It's not something he generally has to tolerate. Usually it is the others who have to guess at his motives, his thoughts. The switch in power is grating. Especially when the power is transferred to America.

When America bites off another square of chocolate, Russia decides to initiate the conversation himself. "I can't help but wonder, considering your rapid response, if you have not given much thought to anything I said, about my reasoning."

America finishes his square, still contemplating how to go about this.

_Best to say I have._

Right. "No, I gave it a lot of thought. Truly. And before absolutely anything else I want to make it clear right now I am still pretty pissed about this whole thing. I am not okay with being your love formula guinea pig no matter what the reasons, got it?"

Russia's stomach falls. This isn't a promising start. "...And?"

America looks at the chocolate thoughtfully. "But I do sympathize with your predicament. I'm not saying that it's okay if you harass me or anything but I guess I could tolerate it if we spent a little time together. I guess. If we did maybe I would have a better understanding of why you are doing this to me."

That sounded convincing right? Right?

_Very convincing._

Still, as the pause grew longer America starts to have doubts. Did Russia totally see through his utterly amazing plan already?

Russia rapidly thinks. America had been extremely angry about his confession. Lithuania claimed America didn't stay upset for long but he hadn't faced him during the Cold War. There was a history of dislike there, and bitterness. America is not one to just drop something like that. Still... Still. No matter what America is up to this gave him an in. He can deal with America's hair-brained scheme as it became a problem, whatever it may be. Until then he will have the opportunity to try and finish wooing him.

"...Are you sure?"

America relaxes, flashes a charming smile. "Sure. Just for a while though. And it isn't an invitation to keep doing weird, crazy shit to me. Seriously don't."

Russia sits next to him and takes one of his hands, putting the bar of chocolate aside. "Thank you so much Alfred. You don't know what this means to me." And he does sincerely mean that. So much weight, potential despair, suddenly lifting right off his shoulders!

America can't help but feel a bit pleased. It is gratifying to be needed, to be thanked. "Well, you know... I mean, it's no big deal. Just part of being the hero."

Russia cups America's cheek. "I promise I will give my best effort to make you love me."

America all but chokes on Russia's words. "Whoa now, that's a bit much. I said I didn't want any weird stuff got it?"

Russia smiles softly. "But what is strange about falling in love?"

America raises an eyebrow and breaks from Russia's caress, standing up. "Nothing. What's strange is being coerced into love by your former enemy. Which reminds me..."

He leans down, head tilted, and reaches out. Russia's eyes widen as America's fingers touch his cheek. And then pinch down, hard. Russia puts a hand up. "Ой! What was that for?"

America smiles smugly. "Negative reinforcement. It is not appropriate to tell someone you are using them for a personal goal."

Russia frowns and reaches up, pinching America's cheek. "So it is fine if you do not tell them?"

America clamps back down on Russia's cheek. "That's not what I meant!"

Russia begins pinching America's other cheek. "Then wha do you mean?"

America manages a few nonsensical words as he viciously takes hold of Russia's other cheek. The two of them pull and pinch each other's cheeks until America finally let's go and knocks Russia's hands away. "Okay, okay truce! Ouch!"

He rubs his red cheeks, glaring. Russia does much of the same. "Alright... Let's try to avoid doing that in the future. But seriously, what makes you think you can pinch me but I can't pinch you?"

Russia rubs his cheeks thoughtfully. "Well I guess... That's because you're a fool."

America goes for his face again and Russia grabs his wrists, giggling. "I suppose it is a double standard. As you have agreed on your own accord to spend time with me I will no longer pinch you... Probably. Though I will still gladly give you rewards for good behavior."

America shakes his head. "I cannot even begin to tell you how unnecessary that is."

Russia tugs him forward and he loses his balance, putting a knee on the couch to keep from toppling face first into Russia. "But I would really like to. In fact I insist. And I shall start with rewarding your gracious response."

He releases one of America's wrists and slides it around his body, pulling him even closer until their lips are meeting a bit forcefully. America winces as their teeth knock together but is soon distracted from the pain when Russia's tongue invades his mouth. He freezes, definitely not expecting it. He briefly considers biting down to varying degrees. This idea is rather tempting. In the end he uses his free hand to grasp Russia around the neck and push back. Russia is forced back reluctantly, his tongue flickering lightly across America's lips one final time before he backs up enough that America isn't totally choking him.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you even listen to me? I said no weird shit!"

Russia frowns. "I just want to kiss you. I'm so happy. I really thought that you were going to tell me... Well, a number of unpleasant things. Or that I might have to keep chasing after you to even get you to talk to me. And yet you have contacted me on your own and have not totally rejected me. Is my response so strange?"

America's grip loosens. "Well... I mean I guess... But I don't... You can't just do things to other people."

Russia takes hold of the hand around his neck, easing it away then kissing it. "I don't want to do things to other people. Only you."

America flushes. "Sh-shut up! When you say things like that it's really creepy!"

Russia chuckles. How could things have turned out so well? Perhaps there was something to that star wishing business. "You're adorable Alfred."

America pulls away. "I am not! Listen, I said we could hang out. I never said I was going to let you sexually harass me."

He turns away, crossing his arms. "And we sure as hell aren't going on any third date."

A moment later Russia is behind him, slipping a finger below the waist of his jeans to caress the hickey there like he had before his confession. His breath is warm on America's ear. "But Alfred, we already went on a third date."

America tries to turn to confront him but Russia holds him tightly. "What the fuck! We did not!"

Russia licks the edge of America's ear. "Silly, of course we did. After you saved me from Belarus I took you out, got you food, and shared information with you which allowed you to know me on a more personal level. I think that more than qualifies as a date."

America's heart all but stops in his chest as Russia presses a kiss on his neck, still tracing slow circles on his skin. "Oh shit."

* * *

Translations:

Kāpēc?-Why? (Latvian)

Matote... - You see... (Lithuanian)

Ой!-Ow!

**AN: **Obviously nothing has really been discussed and resolved yet. I guess it's a race to see who can be out manipulated! Haha, those two... And because I hate it when I get all excited about sexy cliffhangers and then not too much happens in the next chapter... don't get TOO excited about the end of this. -laughs-


	23. Chapter 23

Hi~ So I'm pretty much going to blather on for a bit so feel free to skip down and start reading -laughs- First off, congratulations to Fretful for being my 500th reviewer! And I'm almost to 600, dang! I've been working on your one shot, I've just been busier than usual and it took a while to finish that Valentine's special so thank you for your patience!

So no one offered up anything for that inquiry I made on Germany kidnapping/manipulating Finland which makes me sad. I mean Finland was an Axis ally, Sweden was neutral, Denmark and Norway were under attack, it could be so epic. Oh well, maybe some day I'll contribute something like that. Oh yeah, I know I have a lot of readers from Finland...Why did the UK rank you as the fourth lustiest nation in the world? -laughs- I'm curious.

Finally, apparently Funimation is going to try and get Vic to be the voice actor for America in the English dub. If they have him as America I will not watch any episodes with America in English, period. I hate him so much, he sucks! He'll ruin my favorite character -dies- And they better all have accents! -shakes fist- (Oh, and if you like Vic that's cool, but please don't spam me with reviews that are just defending his honor, I'll never like him)

That is all~

* * *

For a moment America stood stock still, brain frozen. A good deal of his plan had depended on avoiding that damned third date. How was he supposed to know Russia counted their talk together as one? What should he do? He had to think fast!

As America wastes time being shocked Russia continues to leave a trail of soft kisses up his neck until he reaches his jaw. Meanwhile the hand that has been gently stroking America's hickey slides across his abdomen, thumb gently stroking his belly button before his fingers begin to make a steady trail downwards.

With a sharp hiss America finally jumps to action, reaching down and seizing the hand before it can reach his vital regions. "Don't make me flip you, cause I will!"

Russia kisses America's cheek, nuzzling him affectionately. "Then why haven't you?"

America squirms out of his grasp. "Look, I'm warning you!"

Russia takes a step forward to bridge the distance again. He rests his hands on America's lower back and pulls him close, violet eyes flashing playfully. "Oh please do tell me what you will do to me Alfred. I'm sure it will be quite riveting."

America's face flushes. "I'm serious!"

"Da, I know. Tell me. What will do you to stop me?" Russia's hands slide down and cup his ass, his knee pressing between America's legs.

An involuntary shiver followed by a flush of heat travels through America's body. 'Wh-what the hell!?'

He tries to shake off the unexpected physical response as Russia begins to pull him up against his leg, creating a gentle friction. America bites back a moan, damning his body to a fiery pit for its betrayal. Just because it has been a while since he last got laid doesn't mean he is allowed to get turned on by Russia!

Oh lord, just thinking about it makes him feel all sorts of deeply disturbed.

"I'm waiting Alfred," Russia murmurs intimately, and America can all but hear the hidden smirk in the words.

"S-stop... I want you to stop!" America is disgusted at how weak his voice comes out, the slight tremor in the first word. Damn it, the only reason he isn't totally kicking Russia's ass right now is because of his plan!

America furiously starts to think of what he will do next, more than expecting Russia to continue with his perverted ways. Which is why he is more than a little confused when Russia's body is no longer pressing hatefully—and just a little appealingly, not that he would ever admit that on pain of death—against him.

"...Huh?"

There is suddenly a respectable distance between the two of them. Russia tilts his head inquisitively. "Is something the matter Alfred?"

"You stopped..."

With a giggle Russia responds cheerfully, "But of course, you asked me to. Why wouldn't I?"

America opens his mouth, closes it, opens it. "Uh..."

'Oh real smooth idiot,' he mentally berates himself.

America waves his hand then rubs his forehead. "But I mean... you never listen to me. Ever. I don't get it."

Russia shrugs. "You asked me to stop and so I did. Though I'm starting to wonder if you really wanted me to with the way you're reacting."

America smacks his arm sharply. "Of course I wanted you to! I was just shocked, that's all! Stop slandering my name with lies!"

Russia laughs and reaches out, gently touching America's face. "I'm not doing anything of the sort Alfred."

America turns away, arms crossed tightly, to hide his flushed face. Russia never does anything America asks, or rather demands. He really had just been shocked. ...Right? No, of course that's all it was! Stupid Russia, trying to confuse him!

Russia grins at the back of America's head. It is really too easy when America plays so well into his hands. This would definitely mean slower progress but it seems his new strategy may be tentatively successful. He would be able to gauge its success rate more accurately the more he is able to put it into effect.

"Alfred, do you mind if I stay here? I'm afraid to go home because of Belarus and what better way is there for you to get to know me than if I were to live with you for a little while, da?"

America's initial response is a very intense 'Hell no.' He bites it back. Living with Russia will give him a better opportunity to see just where his behavior needs the most adjustments... And it would be the 'friend' thing to do to let him crash at his place. Not to mention he really doesn't blame Russia for being afraid of Belarus. She's a psycho.

On the other hand letting Russia stay meant living with Russia for a while. Creepy, stalker, molester Russia. It would mean being in a state of unease at all times. He'd have to be on his toes at every second of the day lest the man pull a surprise attack. It's not exactly an appealing prospect...

As he debates this Russia suddenly takes his face in both hands. "Perhaps you can sleep on it? I think you should get some rest for now. You look even more tired than the last time I saw you. It's important for you to take care of yourself."

America is taken off guard by the concern. Another trick? He doesn't know how to respond. "Um...I guess. Well...you can at least stay for the night as I probably wouldn't be able to kick you out right now if I tried. But you have to sleep on the couch! If you so much as come near my room I'll break your fingers. That clear?"

Russia leans in and kisses him lightly on the lips. "As ice."

America scowls and pulls away. "Fine...Well then I'm going to bed. Remember what I said. You absolutely better not come into my room! I'll sleep with a gun."

Admittedly it's not that surprising when Russia giggles. Maybe that had sounded like a bit much. Though he's still thinking about it. It wouldn't be the first time he slept with a gun tucked beneath his pillow. "Very well my dear Alfred. Sleep well. We will talk more in the morning. And once again thank you so much. You don't know what this means to me."

America gives him a sharp look. "Yeah, whatever. Night then. Don't touch my stuff."

Making his way to his room, America is not sure how he feels about Russia being in his house... Well, like he had thought earlier, he should just think of this as letting Russia crash for the night. No big deal, none at all. As America is getting into bed it occurs to him that ice isn't always clear.

He lies restlessly in the dark, arms protectively between his legs. Every sound makes him think Russia is about to creep into his room. Then of course his mind keeps nagging him about his response first to Russia coming on to him and then his own reaction when he had stopped. Why did Russia have to go and say something that made him question himself unendingly and have to keep violently defending himself? Of course he was turned on, he hadn't had sex in a while. Of course he wasn't disappointed that Russia had stopped like he asked, just surprised.

Between fear for his physical well being and his own mind tormenting him the only real sleep America gets is a handful of winks in the early morning hours.

~.

Russia didn't mind taking the couch. In fact he finds it a great personal victory. He had gone from wondering if America would spit in his face to staying in his home. Most wondrous. He wishes he had thought to ask about his scarf though before sending America off. He misses it terribly. Oh well, he will have it in the morning.

Russia makes himself comfortable despite the fact he's just a bit too tall to stretch out all the way. Despite how tempting it is he won't be sneaking into America's room. He likes the idea of America stressing all night over something that won't happen. After all, he has plenty of time to find his way into Alfred's bed. And he would get there sooner or later. In fact, he's quite confident America will be the one inviting him into it.

With a small smile Russia lets his body to relax, completely content, sleep coming over him far more easily than it would for America.

~.

When America wakes up the next morning he feels awful. A dull throb in his temple begins to torment him almost immediately. Not enough sleep over such a long stretch of time means he has been having this problem a lot recently.

With a sigh he gets up, popping one of the pills he has been keeping at his bedside for it. He looks around and remembers suddenly that Russia was here. As surprising as it is at least he had actually stayed away. Though he might as well have gotten in his bed as much as America kept freaking out that he was going to. Maybe he would have gotten some sleep if they had gotten it out of the way.

He gets out of bed and heads towards the kitchen in desperate need of coffee. As he shuffles into the room Russia looks up from the stove, smiling. "Oh you're awake? Did you sleep well? You don't look like you did. Would you like me to make you something?"

America stares at him blankly for a moment. "...Glad you made yourself at home."

Russia giggles. "Well I didn't think you would mind. Though I think a trip to a grocery store is in dire need. You have almost nothing but microwavable and instant food. That can't be healthy."

America collapses into a chair, grumbling, "I like microwavable and instant food thanks. Besides, why should you care?"

Russia shrugs. "Well, I was just thinking about if I were to stay here that is..."

America stares at the table uncomfortably, answering noncommittally. "Mm."

He wonders if Russia could maybe stay in a nearby hotel or something? But his boss wouldn't be happy about footing that kind of bill because he would probably be expected to host Russia and he would frown upon him being put somewhere cheap. Well surely there were places he could just stay for a while? Russia in the house is just so...dangerous.

Russia breaks his concentration when he places a plate in front of him. "Here, I was making this omelet for myself but you may have it. You have just enough that I can make another one. I can make coffee too if you would like."

America raises his eyebrows in surprise. "Oh... um, thank you. Er, I'll make my own coffee though."

He can't help but remember the placebo aphrodisiac incident. He stood and started setting up his coffee maker. Just as he is finishing Russia suddenly grabs hold of his bandaged hand.

"Is this hurting a lot? No signs of infection yet?"

He almost snaps at Russia, but when he looks up the older nation looks quite sincere in his concern. He sighs, pushing back his irritability. "It doesn't hurt too much and I made sure to practically soak it in disinfectant the other night when I re-bandaged it. Tis but a scratch."

And England didn't think he appreciated his humor.

Russia brings the hand up and kisses it. "I am glad."

America hastily pulls away, going towards the table to eat the omelet. What was up with Russia's attitude? Was this pleasantry an act or something? Hard to say. Damn this was a good omelet! Russia was a decent cook. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad having him around...

'Damn it, stop thinking with your stomach!' he chastises himself.

Russia silently goes back to making his breakfast. America hates silence. "Did you sleep alright?"

Russia turns to him briefly. "Well enough. I would have slept better with you in my arms."

He giggles and America scowls. "Ha ha. Creep."

Smiling softly to himself, Russia turns back to the stove. America's home phone begins to ring. He sighs and stands. "Ugh, I hope that's not my boss. And it sure as hell better not be your sister. That crazy bitch gave me like twenty death threats since our little confrontation. No offense. I'm sure she's a lovely person when she isn't in a murderous rage."

Russia cringes slightly. "Ah well...please don't say that I'm here if it is her."

America snorts. "As if I would."

He hurries out of the room and picks up the phone, really hoping whoever it is won't keep him from his breakfast for long. "United States of America speaking, how may I make your life more awesome?"

Italy's tentative voice speaks from the other end of the line. "V-ve, um, America? This is Italy...I hope I'm not bothering you but...do you have a moment?"

Well this was someone he hadn't been expecting. "Oh...uh, no, not at all. What can I do for you?"

"Mm, well, it's about Germany. I was... I was wondering if you could help me? Um... You see Germany's brother Prussia has been making it rather difficult to see him lately..."

America nods, more to himself than anything as Italy can obviously not see him. "Yeah...I've uh, tried to get a hold of Germany myself and he's being a regular asshole about it. I don't really know how I can help you."

Italy clears his throat. "W-well... W-would you be willing to please distract him for me please? Don't be angry!"

"Distract him?"

Italy speaks in a rush. "I just need a moment alone with Germany to clear this up. I mean Russia told me how you said I have to talk to him and you're right! Please, I hate to get you involved in this when it isn't your problem but I don't know who else to ask. I mean, I would ask Russia to help me but I have a feeling he would do something sort of dangerous. I...I would just need a little time. Please America?"

America clears his throat. Technically it was his fault that Italy was having all these problems. He supposes he owes it to Italy to help him out... Then something clicks. If Germany ends up hooking up with Italy he'll pretty much be Russia's friend by default meaning his friend count will go up by one automatically. And if not... Well Italy is cute and romantic, maybe he would consider dating Russia? So either way if he helped it could work out in his favor. Damn it, why was he so amazing?

"Yeah, of course I'll help you out. You and me will be a regular team, like when we solved the mystery of 'reading the atmosphere'!"

Italy's voice immediately perks up. "Yay! Thank you America! I'm so grateful! Ah, please don't tell Russia though. Like I said, I don't want him doing anything potentially illegal on my behalf."

"Ok! You can count on me." Awesome, he gets to prove himself to be even more of a hero now! "I have something coming up on Monday but I should be free after that. We'll launch Operation Anti-Cockblock right after that!"

"V-ve!? Do we have to call it that?"

America laughs. "Of course we do! Or maybe Operation Prussia is Totally a Dick. Which do you prefer?"

"Eh... Well I'll leave that up to you America. Please give me a call when you have the time. I'll do my best!"

America smiles. "That's the spirit! Don't you worry, we'll defeat our enemy with courage, honor, and, and-"

Italy laughs. "You're so energetic America. It's really neat. I bet you and Russia have a lot of fun together. I have to go now, but I'll talk to you soon! And... um, thank you, I feel so much better now. Ciao America."

Flustered by Italy's sudden comment about Russia, America can barely form a decent goodbye before Italy hangs up. Still, he suddenly feels very energized. He always did like strategizing and he really likes the idea of making a plan of attack that would be fast and relatively successful and painless for once.

He all but hums with self-satisfaction as he re-enters the kitchen. So what if this plan was only necessary due to his prior carelessness? Details! Now he will more than make up for it and it would be amazing.

Russia looks up at America as he enters buoyantly. "Who was that? You sounded rather excited on the phone."

He waves a hand as he sits, noticing a cup of coffee next to his plate. He sips at it appreciatively. "Don't you worry about it. Not anything you have to worry about. Er..."

He notices Russia narrowing his eyes in that way of his that meant he would either start the third degree or a new wave of sexual harassment is coming. He clears his throat quickly. "Er, so uh, about that grocery thing. Give me a list and I'll get them."

Russia's eyes widen and his face brightens. "Does that mean I may stay here?"

Had America just let Russia live with him to cover for Italy? He takes another sip of coffee to buy time to think about it. Oh hell, he is feeling pretty damn good and in his rush of confidence even Russia felt like a challenge that could be taken on.

"Yeah, sure. I mean, you're just crashing here, don't you dare tell anyone we're living together. That sounds... Anyway, until you work things out then you can stay with me."

Russia has no idea who America was on the phone with but he silently thanks them. It seems they have put America in a much more generous mood than what he had awoken with. Smile so wide it hurts his face a bit, Russia continues to eat, wondering if America has any inkling that 'working things out' meant making him fall in love with him.

* * *

**AN: **And thus married life begins -laughs-

Tis but a scratch - From Monty Python and the Holy Grail. British humor, you have to love it~


	24. Chapter 24

Greetings~ I am pleased how many of you got/appreciated the Monty Python reference in the last chapter. So, after this I am going to be MIA for about a week. End of the term and all... -sighs- Well it's a longer chapter so I hope that counts for something. Plus in general I just like this chapter.

* * *

As America sips his coffee Russia clears the table and mentally makes a grocery list. Something would have to be arranged for his vodka supply. America's vodka is absolute shit. Actually he would have to make arrangements to get some of his personal belongings in general. For obvious reasons he couldn't do it himself... Maybe Lithuania could grab some things for him? It would be very helpful. He makes a mental note to call him.

Thinking of personal belongings reminds him of his scarf. "Alfred, do you think I could have my scarf back please? I feel terribly incomplete without it."

America snaps. "Right, I thought I was forgetting something. M'kay, let me get that. It's a really nice scarf actually. Your sister must have put a lot of effort into it."

Russia nods, closing his eyes for a moment. "I think so, yes. She's very sweet."

America wishes he had dealt with that sister instead of Belarus. Much sweeter, from the limited amount of contact he had had with her. Why weren't the two of them on good terms anyway? Probably none of his business...

America retrieves the scarf from his room and returns to the kitchen. It has been folded in a sincere but failed effort of neatness. Russia takes it and presses it to his face for a moment, as if reunited with an old friend. Then he lets it unfold and wraps it snuggly around his neck. It makes him look more substantial, as if he really had been incomplete without it.

"Thank you very much Alfred. I appreciate your treating it kindly."

Actually Russia is a bit surprised. America had taken such good care of it even when he was angry, just as he had taken decent care of most of the sunflowers he found so bothersome.

America shrugs. "No problem."

And the expression on his face suggests the same.

It was really no problem at all.

~.

America sits on the couch, eyes fixed to the TV screen as he kills the shit out of zombies. One of the bars of chocolate Russia had brought him hangs in his mouth, his lips and teeth strategically taking it in bit by bit without the need to use his hands. Russia sits next to him, talking into the phone in some language. Not Russian...Lithuanian? It has been a long time since he heard Lithuania speak his own language so he can't quite be sure. He wants to ask Russia to say hello for him if it is but the chocolate prevents him from speaking and he's only halfway through the bar and god damn there were so many zombies!

Russia has been on the phone for a while now. Probably settling things here, smoothing things there. Made sense. America has to talk to his boss at some point but he'll put that off as long as possible. Maybe tomorrow would be good. He also needs to find some kind of crazy ass lock for his bedroom door to keep Russia out.

Russia hangs up the phone and sighs softly before dialing another number. It takes America a while to notice, too caught up in his game, but eventually he starts to catch on to the tense mood that suddenly surrounds Russia. His voice is quiet as usual but... No, it's more quiet than usual. The way people speak when they are trying to keep calm. When the other person in the conversation is yelling. And he is yelling, whoever is on the other end. It's faint to America but it must be rather loud in Russia's ear.

Straining his memory, America finally places the faint voice. Russia's boss. America doesn't tend to care for any of Russia's bosses too much. As he begins to listen in, the garbled phrases spoken by Russia that might as well be moon runes most of the time start to unravel and make themselves into some kind of sense in his mind.

Listening to Russia's half of the conversation he gets the impression that his boss is saying he could not stay with America even though he is promising to fulfill all his necessary duties. He is audibly becoming more and more upset, his voice getting fainter and fainter. A small waver enters Ivan's voice and that's the last straw.

America pauses his game and takes the chocolate out of his mouth. Without thinking he reaches over and snatches the phone from Russia's hand, words falling from his mouth, tasting weird and unfamiliar but coming out smoothly enough. "_Он будет находиться со мной. Я уверен, вы понимаете, что это во имя хороших внешних отношениях. Спасибо за сотрудничество._"

There is stunned silence on the other end. America hands the phone back to Russia, puts the chocolate back in his mouth, and unpauses his game. Russia says a few faltering words to his boss in Russian. They no longer uncurl for Alfred. He hangs up a moment later and stares at America.

"You can speak Russian?"

America rolls his eyes, finishing off the chocolate. He swallows, licking his teeth. "Well, sort of. There are a lot of people from a lot of places living here Ivan. I can speak a hell of a lot of languages if I have to. But of course English is always the best. You don't have to sound so surprised."

No one ever thought he could do anything. It's a little insulting.

Russia reaches over and tugs at a strand of his hair playfully. "I like learning new things about you."

America shies away from his tugging fingers. A few minutes of silence pass. "...Thank you Alfred."

A hoard of violent zombies takes down America's character as he shrugs. "Damn it! Shit, I was so far too! Ugh and I haven't saved in forever."

He grumbles for a few minutes longer then abruptly turns to Russia. "...Hey, do you want to get pie?"

"...Pie? Well, alright. You really do eat a lot." Russia giggles.

America walks over to his entertainment system and turns the game console off. There's no way he would ever tell Russia that he has asked on _his _behalf because that conversation with his boss had seemed to really upset him and pie always made America feel better. So why not him?

"I eat the perfect amount for me. I'm sure you must eat a lot too, you're big as a freaking house. Now excuse me, I will be right back." Alfred leaves the room to get some bandaging for his neck. Stupid hickey made going out into public such a freaking pain.

When he returns Russia is standing by the door looking like an eager puppy. America wonders if he'd need a leash then decides to drop the thought when some decidedly bad thoughts accompany the image of Russia in a collar and leash. He stuffs his hands in his pockets. "Well let's go. And no doing anything inappropriate in public, jerk."

Russia beams at him. "Inappropriate? I wonder what Alfred thinks is inappropriate. Perhaps he should demonstrate for me?"

He laughs as America glares daggers at him. "Hell no! Let's just say the general rule should be if it seems romantic or sexual you should refrain."

Russia opens the door for him. America slinks past him and Russia follows. "Hm. You know...I don't know why you're so self-conscious about those hickeys. I doubt anyone assumes they're from me."

America snorts. "Says the man who mass-forwarded a picture of the two of us kissing. Trust me, everyone thinks it's you."

Russia catches hold of his sleeve. "Really? That makes me a little bit happy."

America brushes his hand off. "Don't say that! Why would that make you happy anyway?"

Unhindered, Russia takes a hold of his sleeve again. "Because it means people look at us and think we are a couple. I like the idea of that."

America shakes his head with a sigh. "Weirdo."

Russia gives him that strange smile of his and remains silent the rest of the way to the café. "Do you have a preference on kind? Personally apple is the best ever but that's just me."

Russia shrugs. "Anything is fine with me."

Rolling his eyes America orders two slices of apple pie. Didn't the creep realize this was to make him feel better? He has been a bit tame since that conversation earlier. America deems that eating pie counts as something that safely falls into the friendship circle and that it will be okay to be seen in public. "Let's eat outside."

They snag a table beneath the shade of a tree and America starts to eat his slice cheerfully. "Damn that's good ol' apple pie!"

Russia eats his slice slowly, looking distant. America is half way through his piece when his fork suddenly stops in midair. "Ah... Ivan, are you afraid?"

Where the hell had that idea come from? But it sounds right in the moment. Russia's face makes an unusual collage of expressions that last but a split second. "...Afraid of what Alfred?"

America chews on his bite of pie as he thinks about what his mouth had so hastily said. "Mm... well maybe afraid isn't the right word. Nervous? You are hiding from you sister and your boss is unhappy with you right now. It must be a bit distressing..."

That's right, Russia reminds him of many of the immigrants who have come here. That look some of them have of being lost, displaced.

Russia's expression becomes blank for a moment then he smirks. "You've said something astute Alfred. I'm impressed."

"Shut up! Asshole."

Russia breaks up his pie without eating it. "He might force me to go back before I'm ready. I'm not sure... I could do the work from anywhere as long as I have it. I told him as much but..."

_His boss will get in my way. I can't fix him if he interferes._

"...Right. You have a pen?"

Russia looks up at him. "Huh? No."

"I'll be right back." America stands and goes into the café to borrow a pen and to get a napkin. He returns a moment later, quickly scribbling something on the napkin. He slides it over to Russia.

"There you go!"

Russia picks it up, trying to decipher it:

_Ivan Braginski is given diplomatic immunity within the United States of America and is to be considered a diplomatic refugee. His person is protected as such under said government until such a time as Alfred F. Jones lifts this immunity. _

The date and America's signature are under this. Russia reads it again. "Are you allowed to do this?"

America laughs. "I'm America! I can do whatever the hell I want. My boss will probably be upset but he knew I was an idiot when he became my boss so there's not a lot he can do about it either. Feel free to leave whenever you want but I won't let anyone take you by force."

Russia folds the napkin carefully and tucks it away. He leans his chin on the back of one hand. "I'm going to reward you so hard when we get home."

America flushes. "H-hey! I didn't do that for a reward! And how can you say 'when we get home' so familiarly already? You're just a guest!"

Russia picks up his fork and starts to eat his pie again. "Yes, yes. Whatever you say darling."

America leans in with a menacing look on his face. "Don't make me pinch you."

As Russia cheerfully finishes his pie America sulks. What is he doing? He must be insane. That's the only explanation.

Russia suddenly looks up. "Alfred, can we watch scary movies tonight?"

"...Scary movies?" What was Russia going on about now? "Well... yeah I guess so. We'll stop by a movie rental place on our way back."

Russia raises an eyebrow. "Don't you have lots of horror films?"

America shrugs. "Yeah, but I've seen 'em all. I make a point to watch all the movies I own you know. I want to see if there's anything new out."

Russia licks his fork. "Did you...watch the movie I gave you?"

"Oh yeah, I did. I liked it. If that director did any other movies I wouldn't mind checking them out. I mean the cinematography was really interesting and I liked the story even if it was sort of slow. The end was worth it."

It was slow but the end was worth it... Words to live by. Russia smiles softly. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

America isn't paying much attention. "Mm? Yeah, let's get going now. You're done right?"

Energetic, carefree Alfred. Did the world ever come into sharp focus for this man? Did it ever hurt? Russia wonders as he stands and his chair screeches against the ground. "Yes, I'm done."

As they walk along America notices Russia watching him. He stops. "You have a problem? If you want to say something to me I'd prefer you did instead of staring at me."

Russia reaches out and snatches America's glasses off his face, taking a few steps forward then turning again, holding them up high to examine them. America bristles. "Hey! Give Texas back! That's all but a declaration of war!"

"How does Alfred Jones see the world?" He giggles and places them on his face before America can grab them.

America takes hold of his arm. "I said give Texas back!"

Russia presses them up his nose and grins. "How do I look?"

America opens his mouth then stops short. Russia actually looks pretty good with his glasses on. He flushes and frowns. "Y-you look stupid, now give them back."

Russia takes them off and folds them carefully. He gives the frames a small kiss before placing them in America's outstretched hand. "Are these even your prescription? They weren't originally yours right?"

America wipes them against his shirt. "Hmph, doesn't matter, I got 'em from Mexico fair and square."

He puts them on, blue eyes flashing. "Don't mess with them."

"I can't see anyway. Even when I put them on I can't see the way you do."

America frowns. What the hell was Russia talking about now? "I never know what you're going on about."

Russia reaches over and ruffles his hair. "I know. You're a bit slow but it's just part of your charm."

"I am not slow! I'm sharp as a fucking...nail or tack or something. ...Oh just shut up." He angrily walks past Russia.

Russia follows after him. After a minute he reaches out and takes hold of his sleeve again. "What scares you Alfred?"

America looks up at him pompously. "Nothing. I'm made of steel. Like, fear is my middle name! Wait... no that's not right... Fearless! That's it, I'm Alfred "Fearless" Jones, baby. Better believe it!"

Russia gleefully anticipates seeing Lithuania's info on his fear of ghosts put into action. Still, he wishes Alfred would tell him those kinds of things. Surely there were deeper things than ghosts that made this nation tremble when hidden away from the others' prying eyes.

"You're so cute Alfred."

"I am not cute!" America fumes which just makes him even more adorable.

"Of course you're not."

America smacks him and Russia laughs. It is fun to be with America.

~.

America picks up one of the new releases, reading the back critically. "This one. Okay, you pick one yet big fella?"

Russia holds out his best attempt at a terrifying ghost movie. They all sound horribly ridiculous to him. The dead do not much scare Russia. There is more to fear from the living.

America looks at it, looking a bit nervous. "Er...Um, sure yeah. Looks good. So we'll get this, this, and...oh hell, I'll get that other one I was looking at earlier. That way we have three chances of getting it right."

He rents the films, the door bell tinkling pleasantly as they walk back outside. "Alfred, before returning home do you think we could get some groceries?"

America sighs exasperatedly. All he had wanted to do was get pie. Now they were running all over the place. Still, Russia does seem to have cheered up. Then again it's hard to tell with him. He's always smiling.

"Fine. I guess so. But don't get too much. We'll have to carry it after all."

Yet another detour and they are stepping into the overly cool supermarket. The whole thing is horribly embarrassing. The way they fight over certain purchase decisions and Russia's barbarous endearments receive strange looks from the other shoppers. And stupid Russia insists on getting healthy lame food. America does win a small victory by finally getting two frozen pizzas for dinner. After all, pizza is the best movie watching food.

America is somewhat miffed by the time they leave, ladened down with grocery bags. Next time Russia needs anything he'll get it by himself.

It is a relief to finally return home. America is tired. He dumps the grocery bags on the kitchen counter. "Most of this is stuff you wanted so you can put it away. I assume you figured out where everything goes with all your snooping."

"Alfred? One last thing if you don't mind."

America turns. "Huh?"

Russia is closer than he had realized. Before he can react Russia presses him against the counter, kissing him deeply. He pulls back and leaves another kiss on America's cheek. "Thank you. For today. I really had fun."

America reaches up and puts a hand to his cheek as if he's been burned. "Y-you...! Ugh, I need a taser to keep you off or something!"

Russia tilts his head. "I'm going to give you an IOU on your big reward, save it for a really special moment."

That wasn't the big reward? America bristles. "I don't want it! J-just put the damn groceries away and get off!"

Russia presses a finger lightly against his lips and winks before pulling away, focusing on the bags of groceries. America walks away quickly, feeling shaky. That was too close. And now if things weren't bad enough he has that IOU lurking over him... Just great.

~.

Russia and America sit on the couch, a giant bowl of popcorn between the two of them. To prevent inappropriate touching. It wasn't quite dark yet but if they wanted to watch all three movies they had to start immediately. America had allowed Russia to arrange the order of the movies. He had randomly selected the order of the ones America chose, putting his last. It has to be dark for the full effect. With the popcorn popped and the movies all set the watching begins.

The first movie about a serial killer turns out to be a total bust. It's so boring neither of them can concentrate. Eventually they begin to make fun of it, laughing until it hurts.

The second movie is a Japanese import. Russia can't help but dislike it on principle and America once again laughs through most of it. He doesn't find it scary in the least. Russia is a bit confused. It is about ghosts but has no effect on America. Maybe he had gotten over his fear? That would be terribly disappointing.

They take a break to make the pizzas before starting the third movie. And finally pay dirt. At first Russia had gotten a sinking feeling. As far as he is concerned this movie is just as terrible as the first they had watched. He turns to America to ask him how anyone paid to make such awful films, let alone paid to see them, and his voice freezes. America's eyes have started to widen and he is chewing his bottom lip nervously. Interesting.  
Russia sits back, carefully observing America from the corner of his eye. He clutches a toss pillow, makes small gasping sounds, gives muffled advice to the actors. A quarter of an hour into the film Russia gets what he really wants. As the ghosts start to create mediocre terror for the mediocre characters America hits his stride in being absolutely terrified.

He screams, actually screams, at what is happening on screen. It is all Russia can do to keep himself from grinning. When America grasps his sleeve Russia squeezes his hand tightly in return. America shoots him a look, as if suddenly aware of his own behavior. Russia is careful to keep his face tense. And America is thoroughly hooked in. It's easy to take cues from America, learning when to gasp, when to jump. Soon Alfred is in his arms, hiding his face against Russia's chest and crying out to the characters in the movie. Russia cheerfully pulls him closer at each predictable turn and poorly created ghost attack.

Russia could kiss Lithuania. This is too good to be true.

The movie ends—Russia saw the final twist a mile away—and as the credits begin to roll the room becomes very dark.

America swallows hard and trembles. "Th-that was a really freaky movie. N-not that I was afraid or anything!"

"I was scared." Russia lies easily. Perhaps a bit too easily. If he's not careful he'll be too obvious. "...Wouldn't it be terrifying if your house was haunted?"  
A small groan of fear escapes America's lips. Why would Russia say something horrible like that? "D-don't be s-silly. My house isn't h-haunted."

Russia suddenly puts a hand over America's mouth. "Sh! Did you hear that?"

America starts to shake his head, straining his ears. Then beautiful fate as there is a sound. Nothing more than the house settling, the kind of thing one hears all the time. Still, it is enough to have America clutching at him again. "I-it's nothing!"

"Maybe I'll sing. It might frighten the ghosts away." Russia begins to sing a Russian lullaby.

America looks at him with tears in his eyes. "Stop it! That's even creepier than ghosts! Why in god's name would you do that? You're making it ten times scarier! What kind of creepy ass song is that anyway? Damn it, I want to go to my room!"

If he could just get under his blankets to hide he would be fine. But it's so far away... There's another mysterious sound and America hides his face in his hands. Stupid movie, stupid creepy Russian song, stupid ghosts!

Russia suddenly collects America into his arms, holding him snuggly. America yelps. "Whoa, what are you doing!?"

Russia starts to walk slowly towards the hall. "I'll take you to your room. Don't worry, you'll be safe with me. I'll just make myself scarier than the ghosts if I have to."

Usually that would sound like total bullshit to America. Right now it sounds pretty convincing. He clings to his neck and squints, trying to decide if it is scarier with his eyes opened or closed. Why is Russia walking in such a slow even pace? It makes the whole thing more foreboding.

America winces and holds Russia tighter as the movie jumps to the menu screen, making an eerie sound. If Russia ever makes fun of him for this he will shoot him in his face. As they get closer to his room it gets darker and it is all America can do to bite back a soft whine. Russia also has to bite back a sound. A giggle of delight.

The second they reach his room America feels a huge weight lift off of him. Safe, he's safe... Well, at least he'll feel safer in his bed. It's so dark, he can't really see. Russia should turn a light on. Russia places him on the bed. "Goodnight Alfred. I guess I'll go sleep on the couch all alone now..."

America's voice sticks but as Russia stands to go his hand shoots out and grabs hold of some article of clothing. "...If...if you're scared you can...um, you can sleep in here tonight. But only if you're scared! I mean, it's not like I want you to sleep with me but I'll make a special exception just this once."

While he can see the silhouette of Russia he can see nothing else. A blank face. A shadow. A grinning shadow, though he doesn't know it.

"...Really? Well, I mean if it's alright?" Oh how very soft and timid Russia can make his already gentle voice sound when he wants to.

America breathes a silent sigh of relief. "Y-yeah I mean, it might seem kind of terrifying to sleep out there by yourself after that movie. But you definitely have to stay on your side of the bed or I'll kick you out, understand?"

"Thank you Alfred, that makes me feel a lot better." So very much better.

America scoots over to make room for Russia, who crawls into the bed. America hands him his glasses. "Can you put Texas on the table?"

Russia takes them and gropes in the dark until they are safely on the bedside table. The glasses that do not let him see as America sees.

"Goodnight Alfred." Russia turns on his side, away from America.

"...Night." America stares at his ceiling, ears catching every little noise, mind racing with all sorts of thoughts of ghosts and how they might have come to haunt his home. After a long pause he turns and stares at Russia's back. "...Russia?"

Nothing.

A little louder. "Ivan?"

Still nothing but steady breathing. Swallowing hard America scoots closer to Russia's body. When all is said and done Russia is probably scarier than a ghost in theory, though in practice America is definitely less afraid of him. Still, being close to him would surely deter any ghost from coming after him. He cuddles up against Russia's back, pulling his blanket high up over him. For a long moment he holds his breath, waiting for Russia to wake up. He doesn't. America releases his breath. It is an uneasy sleep, but America finally slips off, warmly curled up against Russia's back and feeling secure.

Russia smiles in the dark as America falls asleep against him. He knew America would invite him into his bed. And it had only taken until the second night. He had been very cautious about the whole thing. No trying anything tonight... but there is next time to look forward to. Enjoying the heat against his back he falls asleep contently.

* * *

Translations:

Он будет находиться со мной. Я уверен, вы понимаете, что это во имя хороших внешних отношениях. Спасибо за сотрудничество.:

He will be staying with me. I am sure you understand that this is in the name of good foreign relations. Thank you for cooperating.

(Very rough translation, feel free to improve it if you know how)

**AN: **So I just want to clarify the idea behind America speaking Russian is that Alfred can't necessarily speak Russian but the U.S. can. Because it makes sense to me -shrugs- They must all have some kind of language in common though, to be able to understand each other -laughs- I would say they can all speak everything but I read somewhere France refuses to learn English? Whatever, I guess you aren't supposed to think about it. Haha

And also Russia in glasses in general is super sexy but I just adore Russia wearing Texas~


	25. Chapter 25

Man have I been swamped. Seriously, I am so glad it is nearly spring break. I want to apologize here and now for taking so long to get this out. And that after so much time of not posting this chapter is really uneventful. The next one should be better.

Congratulations to Oni-at-heart for being my 600th reviewer! I'm really loving writing your one shot! Sorry it's taking so long but my estimated final page count for it is 20 pages and I'm about 15 in so... that's why.

And omg, I have two pieces of fanart~ Thank you so much, so awesome!

* * *

Russia frowns as he slowly stirs from sleep. Something heavy is on him and it's making him too warm. He tries to shove it away impatiently and there is a muffled groan. His eyelids flutter open at the unexpected sound. America is half on top of him, sprawled helter skelter. Ah that's right, he had tricked America into letting him in his bed. He isn't used to sleeping with someone else.

More lenient towards the overly warm and heavy body on him now that he is awake, Russia wraps his arms around America. With a smirk he pulls him closer and leans down, kissing his cheek softly. America mutters something as he starts to stir. Russia kisses him again lightly on the lips.

America suddenly frowns. "Mm, no.... No morning kisses 'til we brush our teeth, 'kay?"

Russia's eyebrows raise in surprise at the statement and he begins to giggle furiously. America frowns and starts to sit up sleepily. "'s so funny...?"

He rubs his eyes and looks at Russia. And then he stares. His whole face goes brick red and he rears back. "Oh... god fucking damn it!"

Russia grabs him and pulls him closer. "Good morning to you too, sunshine."

America glares at him. "Shut up! And how dare you kiss me when I'm defenseless and asleep!"

"Da, not until we brush our teeth right?" He giggles again.

America starts to pull away again. "I didn't realize it was you when I said that!"

Russia frowns slightly and grabs America, flipping him so that he is pinning him against the bed. "And who did you think you were saying that to?"

America gives him a flustered look. "N-no one! I don't know, I wasn't thinking of anyone specifically. I just-"

He shuts up. Why should he have to justify something he said when he was half asleep? "Not that it matters anyway who I thought I was saying it to."

Russia tilts his head. "Oh no...? Hm, I might have to disagree but I suppose I'll let it go for now. However, I think that deserves a punishment."

He tilts America's chin up and presses his thumb in the side of his mouth between his teeth, giving him a kiss that is heavy on the tongue.

A shiver of disgust goes up America's spine and when Russia backs up he coughs, wiping his mouth. "Oh that's so disgusting! Get the fuck off me! I have to brush my teeth now!"

Russia happily obliges, leisurely watching him jump up from the bed and rush to the door. America pauses and returns, narrowing his eyes at Russia. "By the way, did you know that I was afraid of ghosts?"

Russia gives him an innocent look. "How would I know? Besides, you're the one who told me you were Alfred "Fearless" Jones right?"

America scowls at him and hurries onwards to the bathroom. In the light of day he realizes how completely and utterly stupid he must have looked last night. Not to mention he highly suspects that Russia wasn't even vaguely afraid of that movie. He had tricked him!

God he could die of embarrassment. It wouldn't surprise him if someone had told Russia about his fear. Though he's not sure who it would be... Then again his fear of ghosts isn't exactly a secret. Much to his chagrin. Still, he had at least thought it was contained to his circle of friends and family.

Never again! He would never, ever watch a ghost movie with Russia again. That way he couldn't exploit his fear. How unfair... Jerk. Too bad Russia's only weakness seems to be Belarus. Like hell he was going to even attempt to use her to torment the Russian. That would be like playing with explosives attached to like... a shark or something. Covered in needles. And surrounded by ghosts!

America pauses as he puts toothpaste on his toothbrush. Why was he thinking of an explosive shark covered in needles and surrounded by ghosts....? Oh right, Russia.

Damn him! He furiously starts brushing his teeth. Morning-breath kisses are so disgusting.

~.

When America walks through the living room he notices that the title menu is still running from the movie last night. He glares at it. "I blame you for this."

He's embraced from behind. "Talking to inanimate objects, honey?"

America impatiently elbows him. "Shut your face! Don't call me honey! That just sounds dumb."

Russia releases him, rubbing his stomach. "Mm, would you prefer darling or sweetest... or lover?"

"How about none of the above you creep? ...And for pulling such a low trick last night I expect you to make breakfast for me!"

With a giggle Russia pokes America's forehead. "It really is all about food with you isn't it?"

America tosses his head. "Hell no, I'm just going light on you because I can't confirm you purposely were messing with me. I could tell you to do all sorts of things, do you hear me? You should be glad I'm just having you make breakfast as the ever gracious nation I am!"

"Yes, yes, your long winded speech wasn't necessary. I intended to do it... lemon drop."

America smacks him hard. "Don't call me weird things!"

Russia laughs. "Ah, that reminds me, about the name you have for me in your cell phone. Perhaps you could change it to something else? Red just has a rather negative outdated connotation to it."

America sniffs haughtily. "I think it fits you just fine. Besides, what would I change it to instead?"

Russia pauses to consider. "Well... how about 'my gentle snowflake'?"

He smiles cheerfully and America purses his lips, staring at Russia for a long moment. "I don't even know if you're being serious anymore. Look, just go make breakfast already. I'm starving."

Russia winks and heads for the kitchen. "I hope you like blini!"

Quite frankly America has no idea what 'blini' means let alone if he likes it but as long as it's good he doesn't really care. He just hopes it's nothing weird. America takes the stupid ghost movie that made a fool of him out of the DVD player and back in its case. Russia could take these back by himself.

He collapses on the couch and rubs his head. He can't get over how he had acted last night. He knows that is his reaction to ghost stuff and yet he continuously does things like that. Well after all, he couldn't back out. He was the hero. But still... He knows his masochistic relationship with ghost movies bothers Kiku.

Kiku....

Shit, Kiku is coming over tomorrow! Russia plus Japan is just asking for some bad shit to happen. What should he do? There's no way he's telling Japan not to come over just because Russia is currently staying with him. Still, he doesn't want Russia to be there to try and kill Japan. He would just have to get Russia out of the house for a while. But how could he manage that without tipping the Russian off that something is happening?

How did he keep getting in these messes?

While America concocts various plans to convince Russia to leave, most of them are fairly unrealistic and overly optimistic. He collapses sideways on the couch, closing his eyes and trying to think on a more simplistic scale for a while. "I guess I could always say something like 'Oh Ivan, if you really want to prove your love for me you will go on a quest that will take you the next two or three days!' Ha, like I'd ever say that."

"Will breakfast be adequate to prove my devotion?"

America quickly sits up. Russia smiles down at him, head tilted to the side. Face flushing, America stands up. "I- that was... You totally have a misconception of what I just said!"

"Do I...?" He gives him a near smoldering look and brushes his cheek.

Great, now he looks even more stupid. Not only that but Russia probably thinks his dumb plan to make them fall in love is working, which it so isn't!

America dodges him. "Just forget about it. So breakfast is ready? Then I'm going to go eat."

He walks stiffly towards the kitchen. He keeps getting himself into awkward situation after awkward situation. He needs to kick his amazing hero skills into high gear to smooth them all over without getting royally screwed.

Russia follows after him, a mischievous smile still on his lips. He really doesn't know why America had said what he did but it amuses him. Perhaps he is making more progress then he thought. It's hard to know what the stubborn man is thinking at any given moment. Unless of course he blurts it out stupidly. Which perhaps he had just done...? Then again it might have been said mockingly. America can be quite scathing when he wants to be. He doubts America had been particularly serious when he said it.

When America sits at the kitchen table Russia sets down a cup of coffee for him and a plate of the mysterious blini. They look like pancakes. Instead of syrup there is a dollop of sour cream and another dollop of jam off to the side. So was blini the Russian word for 'pancake' or something? That doesn't feel quite right... Oh well, if they look like pancakes they can't be bad.

He spoons jam onto the first blini, spreading it evenly over the surface before taking a bite. Different. Not a pancake like Mattie would make him. Not bad. He ate the rest eagerly enough, trying sour cream on the next one. Interesting, but he definitely prefers the jam. Russia eats his own breakfast, watching America and considering him down to the most minute detail.

America drinks some of the coffee. "Not too shabby Ivan."

Ivan dips his head once. "You are quite welcome. Anything to make my dearest heart happy. I hope they are worthy of showing my dedication."

America is about to tartly retort when his house phone rings. He groans and rubs his forehead. "It always has to be at breakfast doesn't it?"

He hurries towards the phone. "Coming, coming you miserable piece of technology. I'd like to smash you into a thousand little- Hello! This is the United States of America speaking, how may I-"

"Sometimes I question if you have even an ounce of logic in that brain of yours."

Oh damn it. "Er, hey boss. I was going to give you a call today. How's it going?"

America's boss proceeds to tell him exactly how it is going, using some language that America thinks is unnecessarily strong. Apparently Russia's boss had contacted him wanting to know what the United States thought it was up to, stealing their representative. Needless to say his boss isn't particularly happy about his acting so impulsively. And unlike Russia he has no one to jump in and save his ass. Guess it's up to his own self as always.

"Tell him to go home immediately before this causes any more problems!"

America uses his best 'I know exactly what I'm doing' tone. "Look boss, I don't like this any more than you do okay? There are some things going on that has nothing to do with you or Russia's boss or even our countries. It's just between Ivan and me okay? This falls under one of those personal issues that you can't interfere in. Besides, I gave Ivan immunity as a diplomatic refugee."

"You what?" He sounds furious.

"Sorry boss, sorry! You'll just have to trust me on this. Please. I'm asking you to just...trust that I know what I'm doing. It's something I have to do. Hold off Russia's boss however you can, if you can. I promise I'll get this all fixed as soon as I possibly can. I'm awesome, I can do it I swear."

There is a pause and then a heavy sigh. "You do realize you're just adding more fuel to all those rumors about the two of you don't you? I know I said I encouraged your getting closer to Russia but not if it's going to cause problems for us."

"Hey, hey, I always know exactly what I'm talking about! No worries boss. Just give me a little time and everything is going to work itself out and you're going to be like 'Alfred sure knows exactly what he is doing and is one cool guy' and I'll be like 'Yeah I know right?' Then you'll say-"

His boss cuts in. "Fine, fine. But if I think that this is about to escalate out of control you are sending him back and I don't want to hear I single word from you. I give the order, you listen. Got it?"

America salutes. "Yeah! Totally boss. You're so super awesome! Thanks!"

"Stop causing so many problems for everyone. And I mean it. I give the order I expect you to listen to me." That said he hangs up.

Alfred places the receiver back on the hook. "Give it up for Alfred 'Super fantastically amazing' Jones! How am I so cool and suave all at the same time?"

"Your boss? It went well?" Russia stands in the doorway, arms crossed.

Alfred gives him a thumbs up. "Hell yes! Well, not at first. Man my boss can really yell sometimes. But I did a little sweet talking and pacified him for the time being. The guy loves me. Er, well, not romantically. You know what I mean."

Last thing he needs is Russia going psycho on his boss too.

"So, uh, hey Ivan. I was thinking. Maybe tomorrow-"

Russia interrupts him. "About that Alfred. I'm going to be leaving today for a bit. Lithuania agreed to get some things for me from my house and I am going to pick them up. I won't be here to take care of you for a little while. Can I trust you to feed yourself?"

He puts a hand on America's head, who pushes it away impatiently. "You've been here like, two days! I can totally take care of myself just fine, thanks very much."

Then it hits him full on. "Wait, you're leaving? So like, what time do you think you'll be back?"

Russia raises an eyebrow and smirks. "Will you miss me terribly darling? You can always come with me!"

America quickly waves his hand. "No, no, really I'm good."

Russia giggles. "Very well. Well I should be back early afternoon tomorrow and we can do something then."

America laughs a little too loudly and pats him on the shoulder. "Oh, well you know, feel free to take your time! Don't feel rushed on my account."

Russia tilts his head, eyes narrowing a bit. "Are you trying to keep me away Alfred?"

"No! No, don't be silly! I, er... well you know, both our bosses are kind of irritated at the moment so if you're not always here and don't seem like a captive in my house it's good right?"

Russia relaxes, though it doesn't completely shake his suspicion. America is always doing stupid things and trying to hide it. "That's true. Well I have to be going to catch my flight. Sorry this is such short notice. I didn't want you to cry and beg for me to stay for hours. It would be too hard for me to leave if you did."

"As if I would do that!"

Russia pulls out his cellphone and starts hitting some buttons. "Here, if you need to hear my voice just give me a call. What do you want your nickname to be in my phone by the way?"

America leans in and tries to read what the contact info is but it's in Russian. Russia quickly pulls it away. "Just trust me that right now it's not exactly complimentary. Let me know what you want me to call you."

America glares at him for a moment. "Hmph. Alfred is fine you know. Though 'Hero' is just as good."

Russia pouts. "You're no fun at all. Fine, Alfred it is. I'll think of something better, da? I have to get going now. Make sure to feed yourself, take care of your hand, and try not to be too lonely without me! Now give me a goodbye kiss."

He leans in and Alfred leans away. "Eh, no way! You should be going, quickly!"

Russia grabs him, nearly crushing him. "Now, you know I always have time for you Alfred."

After some struggling and some very messy failed attempts Russia finally manages to plant a kiss on America's lips. "I'll bring you a souvenir, promise."

America glowers at Russia. "Ugh, whatever. Make sure to take back those stupid rental movies before you go."

"Right, right. Wouldn't want you trapped alone with that movie to haunt you." He giggles.

America flushes. "Jerk, don't you even dare talk about that ever again or I'll kill you, do you got that?"

Russia beams at him. "No problem. Well, I'll be back soon. I'll miss you."

"I'm sure you will," America grumbles.

Russia lightly touches America's cheek one more time, then grabs the movies. He blows America a kiss from the door. "До свидания пока."

America stares at the closed door for a long moment.

That had been surprisingly easy. He laughs. "Obviously destiny is on the hero's side! Now I just need to figure out a way to push him back from coming here even later. Maybe I'll tell the airports to detain him or something."

Still, he feels much better about it. Japan's visit is sure to go off smoothly.

He shrugs off the sense of foreboding that overcomes him for a moment and decides how best to utilize his Russia-free time.

* * *

Translations:

До свидания пока-Goodbye for now

Notes:

Blini-Yeast-leavened, buckwheat pancakes from Russia. There's a lot of fancier ways to eat them but for a simple breakfast meal sour cream or jam works just fine. I'm pretty sure a single blini would actually just be called a blin but eh. -laughs-


	26. Chapter 26

'Ello~ I'm soooo close to being done with this term! Holocaust final out of the way, one last essay to finish up, and a skit in Spanish... Ugh I just want to be finished! Seriously. At least I'll be done by today and then sweet freedom for a week and a half~

In other news congratulations to Sakily for being my 700th reviewer!

Oh yeah, and may the luck of the Irish be with you -laughs-

* * *

When Russia knocks on Lithuania's door no one answers. Frowning slightly he knocks again. There is a faint, "Just one moment!"

He takes a step back as the door opens, half-convinced that it will be a very angry Belarus. To his intense relief it's Estonia. They look at each other for a moment and Estonia coughs. "Please do come in."

"...Hello Estonia. Where is Lithuania?"

Estonia fixes his glasses. "Mm, he's here. I was in the middle of bandaging him."

Russia raises his eyebrows. "Why were you...?"

Lithuania walks in with a meek smile. "Oh, hello Russia. Sorry for not answering myself."

Estonia tsks. "Don't move Toris, I'm not finished yet."

He hurries over and straightens Lithuania's arm out. "Now please be still, I want to get this as straight as possible."

He re-adjusts a splint against Lithuania's wrist and starts to wrap a bandage around it tightly. Lithuania laughs softly. "Sorry about the trouble Eduard."

Estonia shakes his head and silently goes about his work. Russia walks over, examining Estonia's work as well as the bandaged fingers. "Natalya...?"

Lithuania sighs softly. "Well, yes. When I went over to get your things she was waiting there hoping you were coming back. At first she kept telling me to go away. I said I had to get a few things then she immediately figured I had to know where you were. She tried to use force to get me to tell her. Which I swear I didn't! She finally gave up and left the house saying something about finding you herself. Poor thing, she's so upset. You really should talk to her you know."

Russia wonders if all of Lithuania's time living with him had made him somewhat demented. "Natalya broke your fingers and wrist for information? Well... as long as you didn't tell her. She must be terribly angry..."

Lithuania reaches out and takes hold of Russia's arm, looking at him imploringly. "You know it's just because she cares so much for you. Surely you should talk to her and straighten this all out. I'm sure she would understand."

Lithuania is obviously delusional from the pain, Russia decides. "Um... Of course I'll talk to her. I'm just not quite ready yet... You are sure you didn't tell her where I was staying right?"

Lithuania nods. "Yes, I would never want to cause problems for America."

Russia's smile tightens a bit. "Oh, and how about for me?"

"O-oh! I mean, of course I wouldn't, um-"

Estonia hastily speaks up. "I-I've just about finished Toris! Just try not to use it too much and perhaps avoid doing things that will prevent it from healing."

The last part is very carefully worded. It translates to something along the lines of 'Stay far, far away from Russia and Belarus.'

Russia drums his fingers on his arm. "So...I take it you didn't get what I asked for then."

"Oh no, I did. Let's see, the briefcase with your laptop, those papers you asked for, a suitcase with some clothes and part of your vodka stash. Admittedly it was really quite difficult to get it all with one of my hands out of commission so I called Estonia to help. But I have it all here. It's in the living room waiting for you."

Lithuania really is incredible. He misses having him around. Estonia too really. He wonders if there is absolutely any way he could get America to convince them to come back to him? At least Lithuania. As he ponders he begins to smile in a way that makes them cling to each other and take a step back.

Lithuania laughs nervously. "A-ahaha well, i-is there anything you would like? Something to drink or eat maybe?"

Russia shakes his head. "I really do think I should be getting back as soon as possible. I do appreciate it. Sorry for any problems it may have caused."

He wanted to get back to America's house. There had seemed something suspicious about his behavior and Russia wants to see if he's going to catch him at something.

The Baltics breathe a silent sigh of relief. "Well in that case we'll get you all set up alright? Come on Eduard."

They leave the room, talking in hushed, nervous tones. Russia waits, brooding over how long he thinks he can avoid his youngest sister. His phone goes off, startling him from his thoughts. He pulls it from his pocket and throws a curious glance down. For a moment all he can do is stare. Then he jerks violently and hastily answers. "H-hello?"

"Hello Ivan dear! How are you?" Ukraine's voice comes through the other line clear and cheerful.

"I...I'm fine. How are you?" When was the last time Ukraine had called him? Oh he had made some calls to her, usually at his boss's urging but usually she avoided him like the plague.

"I...er, I'm fine. I was wondering... Ivan, would you come see me?"

His voice is frozen by shock. When had she last actively wanted to see him? "Are you...sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. Why else would I be calling?"

Suspicion suddenly creeps over Russia. "...Katyusha, if Natalya is there making you ask me to come over say something about the weather."

"What? Ivan what are you talking about? Is something wrong? Are you and Natalya having a fight? Please tell me, is it serious?"

Russia hesitates. It could be a trick. Then he decides she is being honest. Ukraine is a crybaby and a horrible liar. If Belarus was making her do this then he would know in a second. "Never mind. I'll talk to you about it later. ...She hasn't contacted you about me though has she?"

"No dear, I can't say she has."

Then again, why would she? Belarus knows Ukraine actively avoids him. "Good. I can be there late tonight or early tomorrow morning but I have a rather long flight to take after that so it can't be too late. Is that alright?"

Ukraine's voice brightens again. "Oh yes! Perhaps the morning would be better if it's not too inconvenient. Please, come as early as you like! I'm usually up at the crack of dawn anyway. I appreciate it Ivan and...I am so sorry I haven't been a very good sister and avoid you so much."

He hears her sniffling on the other end. "It's alright Katyusha, please don't cry."

"I-I'm sorry Ivan."

"...I'll see you in the morning."

"Yes, I'll be looking forward to it. Have a good night dear. Goodbye."

"Goodbye Katyusha."

He hangs up and stares at his phone. He had forgotten to ask her why she wanted to see him. Still, he can't believe it. The thought of seeing her makes him slightly nervous but it has been a while since he's visited her under pleasant circumstances. What he hopes is pleasant circumstances.

Lithuania and Estonia walk in with two suitcases and a shoulder bag. Lithuania sets one of the bags down. "Here you are Russia. All set to go!"

Russia smiles cheerfully at him. "I'll be spending the night. There has been a change of plans."

A look of surprise flickers across Lithuania's face but it quickly turns to concern. "Is everything alright?"

Russia looks fondly at his phone. "Da, everything is fine."

Lithuania picks up the mood and smiles back. "Well then. I suppose it's one more for dinner! I'll get started."

Estonia looks at Russia uncomfortably for a moment. "I think I'll assist you."

Lithuania pats his arm. "Great. Make yourself comfortable Russia."

Russia speaks up quickly. "Oh, and I want to thank you for the tip about America's being afraid of ghosts. It was exceptionally useful."

Lithuania rubs the back of his head. "Oh? I'm glad. I hope you didn't tease him too much."

"Not too much." He grins.

Estonia and Lithuania leave the room. Russia quickly looks through all of the bags to make sure he has everything he really needs. After arranging new flight plans he makes one more phone call.

The phone rings a few times. When it is answered his greeting is a heavy sigh. "Hello Ivan. Has it been too long since you last harassed me?"

Russia giggles. "I have no idea what you mean Alfred. I was just calling to give you an update. I know this will devastate you but I won't be back as early as I thought. My sister just called and I'm going to see her tomorrow."

"...Which sister?"

"Ukraine."  
"Ooh, the not crazy one. Gotcha. Hey that's awesome, you don't usually visit with her right? Well, I'm very happy for you!"

"How sweet of you to say. I'll be back-" He pauses. Thinks about it. "Day after tomorrow, in the morning."

That wasn't quite true. More like later tomorrow night. Alfred doesn't need to know that. It can be a surprise. What kind of surprise depends completely on America.

"Oh! Well that's great! Er, I mean because you'll be seeing your sister and all... yeah. Uh... So yeah, you enjoy yourself!"

"Do you miss me? I hate to think of you all by yourself." He says it teasingly but he is curious.

America snorts. "I know it's hard to believe but I am a big kid now. I can tie my own shoes and everything. I'm fine. Though man, it's kind of a shame you weren't here. I fucking kicked ass and I swear I made the biggest card house like, ever! But just as I was taking a picture it fell. Shit, no one will ever believe me but it was amazing! God it was annoying to pick up all the cards though. You know, if someone invented a way to collect all the cards together instantly they would be rich. Oh shit, I should do that! Don't you dare steal my idea! I claimed it first, got it? Ugh, and if Japan ever heard I bet he would make it with his freaking super science. I have to get on that. Where is a pen, write myself a- Why am I talking to you about any of this?"

"I have no idea." And he really doesn't. He has no idea. "Maybe you're starting to like me."

There is a heavy silence on the other end of the phone. "Whatever, I'm going. Have fun with your sister."

He hadn't denied it... "Have a lovely evening Alfred. Think of me before you go to sleep."

"Why would you say that?! Now I totally will and I won't be able to sleep! God you're a creep!"

America hangs up and Russia chuckles to himself. He looks at the phone thoughtfully. Maybe America really is starting to like him. Sometimes it really doesn't feel like it but when he stops to think about how they interact now in comparison to when he first started his experiment there is a huge contrast. Just the fact that he's living with Alfred at all is a bit baffling even to himself.

And does he like America? Yes. More than he used to. Does he miss him? He doesn't know. He supposes the fact that he wishes he could be spending the night with him instead of being here gives some indication. But he doesn't think he loves him yet. And he doesn't think America loves him yet either. Still, he must be on the right track.

The thought cheers him.

~.

Russia leaves Lithuania a thank you note the next morning. There's no reason to wake him so early just to say goodbye. Still bleary eyed from not getting enough sleep, Russia hauls his bags from a taxi to a small airport where he boards a plane that takes him to his sister.

Standing at her door, he pauses for a long moment before knocking hesitantly. He knocks a little louder when no one answers. It feels like deja vu. But then the door swings open and Ukraine is absolutely beaming at him. Tears come to her eyes and she grabs him, pulling him into a hug.

"Oh Ivan, I've missed you! You look well. Here let me see... Oh! It feels like its been a long time. Please come in!"

She stands aside so he may enter, which he does feeling rather awkward. Usually he is stuck outside the door as she quietly cries behind it, pretending not to be home.

"Давайте подивимося... Can I get you anything dear? To drink or eat or...?" She fusses nervously

"No, thank you Katyusha."

She looks taken aback for a moment, perhaps at the use of her human name, then smiles. "Well, alright if you're sure. Please have a seat."

She seats him on a small couch, sitting next to him. "So...How have things been?"

"Decent, for the most part. Yourself?" This all seems so strange and abrupt to Russia. He can't help but feel on edge about the visit.

"Oh, well, I'm hanging in there." She laughs weakly. "Um I...I heard you started dating America..."

"...Da."

She smiles again. Her fidgeting makes her breasts jiggle and it's making him uncomfortable. "That's wonderful! I never would have guessed! I mean the two of you... Well... Великий! Really, it is. I'm so happy for you Ivan."

There is an awkward pause of silence. "Er, thank you Katyusha."

She suddenly takes his hand. "I-Ivan I um... Can I just ask one tiny little favor of you, please?"

He looks at her hand, a slight ringing in his ears. "Maybe."

She takes a deep breath then blurts it all so fast he can barely catch it. "My boss said that if I could get you to do this one thing then I would be able to spend more time with you and I really do miss you very much. I know that things have been rough between us for a while but I do miss you so... Please, have America come talk to me!"

Russia pulls his hand away. "Why?"

Ukraine looks away for a moment. "W-well..."

"NATO? Georgia?" His voice is flat.

"N-no! Nothing like that." Tears well up in her eyes. "It's not that at all! I just... Our relationship hasn't been the best ever since the Cassette Scandal and some other current events and I... Please, it's just something my boss wants me to do and if I do I can spend more time with you so long as it's in a neutral setting. I'll just talk to him a little. Please Ivan?"

He sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I don't know Katyusha. I'll think about it."

She wipes her eyes. "If you do I promise I'll just talk to him for a moment... You can be there too. I'll serve coffee and maybe something light to eat and that can be it. Oh won't you please Ivan dear?"

The fact that she's willing to allow Russia to be present makes him feel better about the idea. Still, he doesn't know if he wants to commit to it yet. "I will think about it."

As if to soften the words he gives her hand an awkward pat. She smiles meekly at him. "I appreciate it and I'm sorry... And even if you don't want to I'd still like to see the two of you together. I want to see you in a healthy relationship and I'm sure you are very cute together."

She laughs softly and Ivan's smile returns hesitantly. "Oh, do tell me what all the fuss is with Natalya. Has something happened between the two of you?"

Another subject he doesn't want to talk about. He sighs. "She's not exactly happy about Alfred. So I've been hiding from her."

Ukraine puts a hand to her mouth. "Oh no, poor thing! You shouldn't be hiding. You should talk to her Ivan. Isn't that a little unfair? You know how she feels about you."

It was easy for her to say that. She rarely has to directly deal with Belarus when she is angry. He tries to word his response delicately. "Well yes but... I think it's best to give her some time to cool off. Once she's had a chance to think it over I'll discuss it with her."

Maybe. In an indefinite point in the future.

The words have the desired effect on Ukraine. She nods slowly. "Well, as long as you get to it eventually... Shall I talk to her?"

Russia shakes his head violently. "N-no! Please don't! Um, I...I don't think it's a good idea. And if she asks about me I'd prefer you try not to tell her anything."

Though she would surely break down in an instant if Belarus questioned her. That's why he has no intention of telling her he's staying with America. He glances at his watch. "I'm sorry but I really do have to go... It...It was nice seeing you Katyusha. Under more normal circumstances then we usually see each other."

She gives him a sad, pained smile. "Yes... It was good to see you. And I hope to see you again in the near future. But don't feel obligated to do anything! Um... Well I'm glad you're happy. You are happy aren't you Ivan?"

Is he happy? He decides that he is definitely happier than he has been in a while. "Yes, I think so."

She hugs him. "Good, I'm glad. Прощай, маленький брат. Take care of yourself dear."

He slowly hugs her back. "I will. Прощай, большая сестра."

After a moment they come apart and she smiles sweetly at him. He returns it. She waves after him as he walks out the door to catch his flight, not going back into the house until he is out of sight.

~.

Russia stares out the window of the plane. He doesn't know how to feel about his visit with Ukraine. Their politics have caused a rift between them that has been there for a long time. To bring America to see her might allow him to open up a more personal relationship with his sister again.

But it is a difficult issue. Ukraine and America might not be close as Katyusha and Alfred, but their governments had worked together in ways Russia didn't like, neither as the Russian Federation or as Ivan. And as sweet and gentle as his older sister is, she is also manipulative in her own way. She claims her meeting with America would be no big deal, not about anything important, but there is no guarantee.

And he had made it very clear his relationship with Alfred was to be purely personal, not political. Did this scenario not fall into the political realm? Did it count as personal as it was his sister? But even if it did turn out to be nothing, the fact that he took America to see her under those particular circumstances would mean he had used him on a political level for a personal goal. Right? He doesn't know. It's all so confusing.

He leans his head back on the seat. Maybe he will get America's opinion on it. As he closes his eyes he finds he is oddly eager to see the young, obnoxious blond again.

~.

Said obnoxious blond drinks his dozenth cup of coffee. As awesome as it had been to stay up late last night finishing _Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2_, which would have probably offended the shit out of Russia, he is tired. It had taken longer than he thought. What he should have done is taken his first peaceful night in ages to finally get a decent amount of sleep. It seems especially ridiculous when he considers he will be spending the evening playing video games with Kiku. Oh well. America is full of bad ideas sometimes. Not that he will ever admit it.

He hopes Japan will arrive soon. It will be easier to keep himself awake once he does but damn it's hard. He is just about to nod off when there is a clear but polite knock at the door. Only Japan could manage to knock politely.

America jumps up and hurries to answer it. "Hey Kiku!"

Japan bows, his bag slumping off his shoulder as he does so. "Konbanwa America-san."

"Come on in, I've been waiting. I hope you have something good 'cause man, I was playing _Call of Duty_ and that is one fucking rad shooter game. So impress me!"

Japan smiles softly. "I will do my best to meet your expectations."

He kneels as he starts to pull various new releases from his country out of the bag. Once those are spread out for America to see he takes two more items out. A small bottle of sake and a six-pack of beer.

America grins. "Well hello! I see you come bearing gifts. I appreciate it my friend."

Japan bows his head. America feels really good. It seems like forever since he's spent time with someone normal doing normal things. Well, not that Japan is quite normal but close enough.

"We're going to have fun, okay Kiku?" He gives him a thumbs up then cracks open one of the beers.

Japan smiles at him. "Hai America-san. Lots of fun."

* * *

Translations:

Давайте подивимося – let's see

Великий!-Great!

Прощай, маленький брат. - Goodbye, little brother

Прощай, большая сестра. - Goodbye, big sister.

Konbanwa-Good evening

Hai-Yes

Historical note:

Cassette Scandal- "In 2002 relations between the United States and Ukraine deteriorated after one of the recordings made during the Cassette Scandal revealed an alleged transfer of a sophisticated Ukrainian defense system to Saddam Hussein's Iraq."

Additional Note:

_Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2_ was banned in Russia due to a part in the game that depicts Russian soldiers massacring citizens as well as the generally unflattering portrayal of the Russian military and country as a whole. (Something along these lines)

**AN: **Dear lord, I was reading up on the Georgia incident back in 2008...Russia and the U.S. _really _don't like each other. It's kind of depressing. And then I couldn't help but wonder why the U.S. is so reliant on countries that it doesn't get along with. -shakes head- My country...I love it but it is not very clever.


	27. Chapter 27

So I have to make a quick correction from one of my notes in the last chapter. _Call of Duty _was only temporarily banned until a particular mission which contained offensive material was removed. Sorry for the mix-up! Oh this chapter was fun to write and I very much look forward to the next one as well~ Hehe

Ah, and I've noticed that PrussiaxCanada seems to be getting really popular... Eh, if that floats your boat that's cool but I can't say I'm crazy about them in the least. At all. Ever. I find I don't like when Canada is paired with people I like America paired with and vice versa.

* * *

America concedes to himself, three video games and four beers into the evening, alcohol and sleep deprivation do not make him a particularly good gamer. Especially when it seems that under these current conditions his multi-lingual capability to understand the Japanese in the untranslated games keeps blipping out at random times.

He must also concede that despite drinking some sake, Japan is still quite good. Then again America is convinced he could probably play against Japan while the guy was asleep and still lose. He is a freaking champ at video games.

"Oh hey Kiku, this game reminds me, you still need to send the fighting game where the loser gets a panty shot taken. That thing seriously cracks me up!" He laughs.

"O-oh of course..." Japan's cheeks flush and America is able to pull off a successful combo against his character.

"Hell yes! Oh yeah, I forgot to ask. Do you like the new camera? S'okay?" He asks without taking his eyes from the screen.

"Hai, it is excellent America-san. Thank you very much. I will have to repay you-"

America cuts in sharply. "Nah, I'm repaying you for what Russia did, remember? No worries! Fuck! Damn I totally blocked that!"

America grumbles as they return to the character selection page. Japan stares at America, who is squinting at the list of characters. So oblivious to anything. There is no way he is Russia's lover. And Japan intends to prove it once and for all. May the spirits of all the ancestors in Japan forgive him, sometimes extreme measures reap the best results. He's sure America would understand the sentiment.

As America flips through characters, Japan slides the sleeve of his Yukata off one shoulder. "A-America-san, it must be rather bothersome, all of those rumors about Russia and yourself. He is utterly despicable putting you in such a position."

America groans. "I know right? Tell me about it. That guy..."

Japan feels a cool sense of victory. Now America will go into one of his rants against Russia as he always does. Japan will sympathize as he always does. Then perhaps America will be drunk enough that he will spend the night intimately with Japan. Japan hadn't brought his new camera but even a cellphone picture of the two of them in bed would be enough proof against the Russian's claims.

Japan's lips begin to curl into a small smile as he imagines Russia receiving the picture. It would show that pure evil-

"But...I dunno, you know he's not that bad."

The words cut through Japan like a blade. "N-nani? Wakarimasen..."

America shrugs one shoulder. "Oh I mean, yeah Russia's a jerk and all but... You know as Ivan he's... not so bad. Mostly. Still a fucking creep and a half but...He's just sort of lonely y'know? Are you ever going to pick a character or what Kiku?"

America starts to turn and Japan hurriedly pulls his Yukata up tightly around himself. "H-hai... One moment."

Japan blindly selects a character, numb with shock. America hates Russia. He loathes him. What is this about him being not so bad?

"Oh come on Kiku, ya aren't even putting up a fight!"

Japan pauses the game. "Since when."

America's brain struggles with the question. "Eh? Ya mean since when have you not fought back? Like, since this moment Kiku. Seriously."

Japan frowns. "Since when has Russia-san been 'not so bad'? You've always hated him before!"

America turns to Japan, his own frown forming. "Well...yeah that's true 'n all but... I mean well...'Cause of this whole freakin' mess I've been spending time with him and sometimes he's...I dunno, he's okay."

Japan clutches at the material of his Yukata, balling it into his fists. He looks away. "I see."

"...Did I upset you?"

Japan shakes his head.

America sighs loudly. "Kiku, please spare me your aloof 'nothing is wrong' bullshit. I don't have the brain capacity to figure it out right now. Just tell me what you're upset about."

"Nothing is wrong America-san."

America scowls and grabs Japan's shoulders. "Yes there is! You totally have that wrinkle between your eyebrows that means I just did something to piss you off."

"I do not have a wrinkle America-san. And I am fine."

"Why do you always do that? Can't you just say something clear and blunt? I'm not good at reading people, you know that! And another thing I can't stand is how we're like, fuckin'... best friends and you still call me 'America-san' like we're business associates. I call you Kiku all the damned time! I mean, would like, a simple 'Alfred-san' at least be cool? I used to like it when after we er... y'know... The morning after how sometimes you'd call me Al-chan. 'S cute y'know?"

Japan's face flushes. "I- ...America-san, the alcohol is talking right now."

"Yeah! And you know what? Alcohol is like, truth city! So like, this is...Why is it so hard to think? Please just tell me what's wrong or my head is seriously going to explode and you're going to be arrested for murder and I would tell you the rest but it's too confusing to explain right now. Just know it involves a clue inside a fortune cookie and a musical number from 'The Sound of Music'."

"You make absolutely no sense when you are intoxicated America-san."

America snorts. "What, like I do when I'm sober?"

Japan smiles slightly at that then frowns again. "Do you... do you truly like Russia-san?"

"...He's okay. Like I said. He's lonely. Guy just needs some friends or somethin'."

Japan looks at his knees. "I can not tolerate him. Not at all. And you never could either. It was always something to talk about. It was... a bond of sorts. But now you are saying... Well, what? Is he your new best friend?"

The harshness in Japan's usually soft voice stings America. "Kiku... Man, what are you talking about? No one can replace you. We've been through a lot of shit and... No one can get between us. You and me, we're a team, being all gay for each other's culture, having a good time just hanging out. I can't be like that with anyone else, not anyone. I mean maybe I'll be Russia's friend but like, not like we're friends. Okay Kiku?"

He gave Japan's shoulders a shake. Japan glances up at him for a moment. "He's been embarrassing you with radical accusations. He humiliated you in front of the world. How could you possibly forgive him?"

America is quiet for a moment then says very slowly, "I did shit to you that was way more unforgivable and you... You've found a way to look past that. Sure I'm pissed and I'm going to find a way to fix it somehow but... I'm pretty sure that even if it bugs me I can find it in my heart to forgive him. ...And may I remind you it was your picture of him kissing me that was circulated?"

Japan looks away. "I couldn't help it. It was just-"

"Yeah, yeah I know. It's just you. And that's fine I guess. I'm over it. Forgive and forget and... Anyway, I don't want you to be all upset on Ivan's account or anything. I mean...You really are my best friend Kiku and I hate it when you're mad at me. So...We're cool right?"

Japan sighs softly. "You can be so foolish sometimes but... Hai, we're cool ...A-Alfred-kun."

America beams as Japan's face turns red. "Now I'm going to do the American thing and give ya a big ol' hug! Prepare for unwanted physical contact!"

He embraces Japan, who stiffens with embarrassment, and laughs. "I love you Kiku."

America suddenly looks up and his heart essentially stops when he sees a menacing giant standing perfectly still in the doorway. He opens his mouth but nothing comes out.

"And I um... my feelings for you are...."

'Oh god please stop talking Kiku, shut up!' That's what he wants to say but his voice is still broken. Russia speaks for him.

"Your feelings for America are what Japan?"

Japan tenses at the voice. America remains frozen, wanting to pull away but not being able to comprehend Russia's presence. He is not supposed to be here. Oh god, how much had he heard? Japan is the one who untangles America from himself, turning to face the enemy.

Russia takes a step into the room, letting his bags fall carelessly to the ground. He comes into the faint light, his smile so menacing America wishes he would take a step back again. "Well?"

Japan quickly clutches the sake bottle, body stiffening into a defensive pose. "What are you doing here Russia-san?"

"I think the better question is what are _you _doing here Japan. I should have known you were doing something stupid Alfred. You were just dripping with suspicious behavior."

Japan glances at America. "What is he talking about America-san?"

"Uh...." Eloquent as always.

Japan quickly stands as Russia takes steady strides towards them. He holds the sake bottle like a baseball bat, eyes hard. "If you have come to harass America-san I simply will not tolerate it. Leave immediately Russia-san!"

Russia pauses in front of him, his voice very gentle. "I am a welcome guest here Japan. I find you the unwanted presence."

Japan frowns, eyebrows furrowing. "Forgive me Russia-san, but I find that highly doubtable."

"So you didn't tell him Alfred?"

Oh dear god the voice was directed at him now. America clears his throat and stumbles to his feet, trying to put his hands up. "I-I er, I guess it kind of slipped my mind is all. What are you doing here anyway? I thought you weren't coming back until tomorrow."

Japan's eyes jump to American then quickly return to watch Russia. "America-san, what do you mean?"

America laughs sheepishly. "W-well Ivan, er Russia, um he's sort of crashing here for a little bit. Family problems and it's er, I mean it's not like we're living together it's more like, uh... That is he... He's..."

"Stop talking now Alfred. So, as you can clearly see, I am more than welcome here."

Shock passes across Japan's face then is quickly hidden behind a more neutral expression. "I see..."

And there is that little wrinkle between his eyebrows again.

"Well, I am also an invited guest within America-san's house. I have just as much right to be here as you."

Russia leans in uncomfortably close and Japan tightens his grip on the bottle. "I'm going to break your arms if you don't leave this second."

"WHOA! I think everyone needs to calm down here! I mean, you can both-"

Without taking their eyes from one another they both snap, "Shut up!"

Did they just tell the United States of fucking America to shut up in his own house? Oh _hell _no. With a huff of indignation America stumbles from the room. There is only one way to settle this.

Japan narrows his eyes at Russia. "For all I know you've threatened America-san to force him to let you stay here. I wouldn't put it past you. I doubt you can accomplish anything without violence."

"Oh is that right Япония? Well, I would hate to disappoint you. Allow me to remove you from the house violently."

Japan swings the bottle at him and Russia catches it. Russia continues to smile, squeezing down on the glass. There is a cracking sound and the bottle shatters, glass and sake spilling on the floor. Russia grabs Japan's wrist and turns it and the piece of glass still clutched in his hand towards him. "Seems you should have left when you had the chance. And you shouldn't have been playing with what belongs to me."

Japan grits his teeth, clawing at the hand clamped around his wrist. "He does not belong to you and he never will you monster!"

Russia tightens his grip, determinedly pressing the hand closer to Japan's face. That's when America bursts in holding two handguns which he points a bit waveringly at Russia and Japan.

"Everyone calm the fuck down! We can solve our problems in a peaceful manner! Especially when in my house!"

Japan looks at him in alarm. "American-san, there is nothing peaceful about aiming guns at people! Put those away before you hurt someone!"

America shakes his head. "No. You, Russia, let go of Japan's wrist. Do it!"

After a pause Russia slowly releases Japan, backing away from him. America nods. "Drop the broken glass Japan."

Japan lets it slide through his fingers. It clinks as it hits another chunk of glass on the floor. "Okay. Better. Now, we're all going to get along here alright? I can't think well enough right now to deal with all these freaking problems. We're going to clean up the glass and play some video games and have a good time. Understand?"

Japan and Russia eye each other wearily. America shakes the guns for emphasis. "Understand?"

Japan finally looks away, bowing his head. "Hai."

Russia puts his hands out, as if to show he's not hiding any tricks. "Da."

America nods. "Damn straight."

Japan clears his throat. "Onegai...Put those away America-san. They make me nervous."

America lowers them, scratching his forehead with the muzzle of one. "Nah it's fine. The safety was totally on the whole time."

He looks at it. "Oops, actually it's not."

"America-san, don't be so careless!"

He laughs. "It's totally fine, no worries. I know what I'm doing."

Russia takes cautious steps towards America. "How about we put those away. Japan can start picking up the glass."

America glares up at him suspiciously but doesn't protest when Russia puts his hand lightly on his lower back and starts to guide him back the way he came. Japan glowers at him. He starts to take a step forward then kneels, picking up pieces of glass from the floor. If it sounds like America needs him then he will come to his aid. But how could he have not told him Russia is staying with him?

America and Russia go down the hallway and stop at a storage closet. America opens it and fumbles with a safe, trying to get the combination right with his inebriated fingers. It finally comes open and he tucks the guns safely inside, locking it again. "There we go."

The next thing he knows he is being slammed against a wall, the back of his head throbbing from the impact. As if he isn't already having a hard time thinking. "Wh-what?"

Russia presses close to him, expression dark. "So you wanted me to leave so you could invite Japan over? I was thinking about how excited I was to see you again and I find you professing your love to that ублюдок."

America blinks rapidly, trying to collect his thoughts. "What? No I... First of all, I invited Japan over before you were even staying here. I only hid it from you because I knew you would have an over-the-top reaction like this! And it sure as hell wasn't to confess my love to him. You totally missed all of the context! We were having a really good friendship moment you jerk. Love has multiple meanings you know."

Russia chuckles in a way that sends shivers down America's spine. "As if I'm supposed to believe that?"

"Well it's the truth!"

"Then tell me you love me as well."

"N-no way!"

Russia frowns. "Why not? Why does he get to hear those words and I don't?"

America tries to look at anything but Russia. "I mean, that's just too much. Kiku and I have been friends for a long time. It would be weird if I said it to you."

"...Is that so?"

Russia tilts his chin up and kisses him fiercely. His hand wanders down America's body, cupping his crotch. America jumps. "Mmph?!"

Russia bites his bottom lip, just barely restraining himself enough to prevent the skin from splitting then pulls away. "Well, you're not hard at least. I thought what with the beer and sake you would be well on your way to fucking. That's what the two of you do, isn't it? Such good friends..."

America flushes. "Go die you asshole! I can't believe I was defending you to Japan! There's nothing nice about you at all! Now get off me!"

Russia pauses. "Defending me...?"

America glares up at him. "I was telling him that you were actually okay, but I was so wrong. I can't believe I let you lull me into a false sense of secur-"

Russia pulls him close, displaying a very rapid attitude shift. "Really? You told Japan I'm okay? You weren't telling him how much you hate me?"

It takes America's brain a moment to catch up. "Well... I mean, no. I was saying I didn't think you were so bad anymore but I was obviously-"

Russia cuts America off, snuggling him. "How sweet of you Alfred. Admittedly you're a complete moron but I guess because of that I can't help but believe you. Tell Japan to go away and I'll make up my hasty accusation to you."

"No! And I am so not a moron and... and you're going to go out there and get along with Japan or I'm going to kick you out!"

Russia thinks about it for a long moment. "Fine. I'll tolerate him for a little while. But please don't forget what I told you. I am very jealous and if he does anything I find unacceptable..."

"He won't! God, you creep! Some people aren't huge perverts like you are. Well... Japan kind of is, but it won't be a problem. So don't even think of hurting him."

Russia lightly licks America's lower lip, an apologetic gesture for the harm done to it. "I spoil you, I think. But I'll tolerate him. However, if he so much as brushes up against you I will stab his eyes out."

"Ivan! Calm down you psycho! And if that's what you call spoiling I'd hate to think how you would treat me if you weren't! Jeez." He pushes Russia away from himself. Still, he's a bit relieved. Somehow things have been smoothed over and it seems no one will be brutally beaten.

Russia quickly wraps his arms around America's waist, pulling him close. "I did miss you."

America fixes his glasses and clears his throat. "It was only like, not even two days."

"It doesn't matter. I also brought you a present."

America tilts his head, curious despite himself. "Oh yeah? What is it?"

Russia giggles and leans in to whisper into his ear. "Mints to keep by the bedside. You know, so we don't have to get out of bed to exchange morning kisses."

America's face turns bright red and he breaks away, nearly falling over. "I don't- You- I can't believe- Ugh!" He abruptly stomps off.

Russia smirks and follows after him.

Japan has finished cleaning up the glass when they return to the room and has set down a towel where the sake had spilled. "Is everything alright America-san?"

America runs a hand roughly through his hair. "Yeah, just peachy. Look, we're all going to sit down and play video games, alright? And I don't even want to hear one insult from either of you. And don't try those sneaky...like, hidden ones."

Japan and Russia glare at each other. Japan subtly snubs him. "America-san, we are going to play _Super Smash Brothers._"

America's mouth goes dry. "Er, K-Kiku, come on, not _Smash Bros._"

"We are playing _Dairantō Smash Brothers_ and that's final!"

Russia smiles with false pleasantry. "I am alright with this game."

America feels his heart sink. "Fine."

Japan is a beast at it. He absolutely slaughters America every time they play. There's no way Russia would know that. He has a very bad feeling about this.

~.

America sits on the couch, struggling to stay awake. Russia and Japan sit far too close to the television, their bodies tense as they beat the shit out of each other in the game. America had tried his best to play with them at first but it was obvious this wasn't a friendly game. It is an all out war between them placed in the virtual world instead of the real one.

So while they're duking it out, America retires to the couch, close to dozing off. He's tired and this is out of control. At least they aren't hitting each other... He suddenly gets a text message, jolting him from the edge of sleep. He opens his eyes resentfully and looks at his phone. It's from Italy.

He opens it and reads it quickly, responding. A moment later Italy texts back. For a few minutes he goes back and forth with Italy, making plans. It's something to do at least. Japan and Russia are utterly oblivious.

Japan sends Russia's character hurtling off the stage, a victorious smile slipping across his face. "It seems I am the winner yet again."

Russia throws the controller down violently. "Somehow you're cheating!"

America cries out. "My control!"

Japan lifts his head proudly, ignoring America's outburst. "How dare you accuse me of playing dishonorably?"

America jumps to his feet and pushes his way between them. "Stop it now! Look, you guys can't play anymore if you're going to get like this. Those controllers are expensive you know!"

Russia turns away huffily. "I still say he's cheating."

America rubs his forehead. "Whatever. If you want to play something else go ahead. I'm going to bed, I'm exhausted."

Japan clears his throat gently. "Perhaps we should discuss sleeping arrangements then. I am obviously allowed to sleep with you, correct America-san?"

Russia's jaw tightens. "You can sleep on the couch. I will sleep with Alfred."

"I have always been invited to share America-san's bed."

"I'm the one who has been sleeping with him lately. There's no room for you."

Japan and Russia turn to America, eyes as sharp as blades. America sinks back. "Well America-san?"

"Who will it be Alfred?"

America feels sick. The beer was a mistake. There's no way he can get away with telling them to both sleep on the floor or something and if he chooses one over the other... Well it's a disaster waiting to happen. "Er...I... I guess you can both sleep with me. It's a big bed."

The looks they both give him make him wither. "Don't look at me like that! I don't give a shit where you sleep, I'm tired and I want to go to bed!"

He turns and heads towards his room, muttering under his breath. He no longer cares about anything except for getting under the covers.

As he disappears down the hallway Russia and Japan look at each other, giving one another tight smiles.

"I'm thinking, Japan, you would be much more comfortable on the couch."

"Oh do you Russia-san? Arigato, but I think not."

They laugh then both bolt for America's bedroom, shoving one another out of the way as they both scramble to get there first.

~.

Teeth freshly brushed, pajamas in place, comfortably in bed, America stares up into the dark and wonders why the universe hates him so much.

On one side is Japan, on the other Russia, both pressed up against him way too close for comfort. He is caught between the hostility that is emitting from both of them towards one another.

'This is the worst, totally the worst,' he thinks miserably.

Oh god, one of them is touching his chest.

Even worse, someone's hand is on his vital regions!

America wonders if he'll ever get a decent night of sleep again.

* * *

Translations:

Nani? Wakarimasen- What? I don't understand

Япония-Japan

Onegai-please

ублюдок-bastard

Arigato-thank you

**AN: **There is really a video game in Japan that is a fighting game where the objective is seriously to knock over your opponent and defeat them by taking a panty shot. I've seen videos. -laughs- And remember kids, alcohol is not, in fact, 'truth city'. And don't play with guns. Haha


	28. Chapter 28

Hi all~ I'm so sad break is almost over... One week is not enough I swear. Oh well... It was pleasant while it lasted. Congrats to Ernie1042 for being my...802nd reviewer but gets a one shot due to various circumstances. And to Sakily, I'll have your one shot soon, I've just been lazy.

I apologize in advance if you were expecting something sexy at the start of this chapter. But if you couldn't tell almost 30 chapters in this story is pretty much one giant cocktease -laughs-

* * *

Russia stirs slightly. Something warm...something warm in his arms...America? Yes, that must be it. He leans in, pressing his forehead against the other's. Something about no morning kisses. Oh well. "Alfred..."

Japan stirs slightly. Something warm...someone holding him. ...America? Yes, that must be it. He feels him press against him, grip tightening around him. His heart flutters. "Al-chan..."

Russia and Japan open their eyes slowly, lips inches apart. They stare, frozen. Not America... Oh dear lord, not America at all!

Japan violently pulls away from Russia, Russia gladly releasing him. He sits on the edge of the bed, a hand over his mouth. Japan feels sick, whole body trembling with disgust. He had almost... almost kissed... It is too terrible even to imagine!

Russia sits up and looks around blearily. America is nowhere to be seen. He frowns as he spots a note on the bedside table.

_Hey,_

_Have some super important heroic duties to take care of! Be back later. Don't kill each other or there will be serious consequences, seriously._

_U.S.A._

_P.S. I didn't sleep at all last night, you guys suck! And whoever was groping my vital regions all night, __not cool!_

Russia snorts. "That idiot..."

Japan turns. "Where is he?"

Russia places the note closer to Japan's side of the bed. Japan takes it distastefully and reads it. He narrows his eyes. "You are indecent Russia-san. I can only assume that last part is referring to you. Not that it surprises me, waking up to you trying to violate me!"

Russia smiles sweetly at him. "Please do not flatter yourself Japan."

Japan flushes angrily and turns away. "The disgrace of it all... If I had actually... If it had actually happened I'm sure I would have to perform seppuku to redeem myself right now."

"Please do stop being so over dramatic. I doubt it is that big of a deal, da?"

Japan huffs, adjusting his yukata. "...If you swear never, ever to mention that to anyone I am willing to call a truce for the time being between us."

"Oh? I would hardly talk about almost kissing you. Alfred might get jealous. And after I spent all that time lecturing _him_."

Japan glares at him. "Do we have a deal or not Russia-san?"

"If that is what you want then fine." And maybe it would make good blackmail material later.

Japan turns away, tapping his cheek thoughtfully. "It is so like America-san to leave us like this without saying where he is going or what he is doing. He must have left terribly early."

"I am mostly impressed that he got away without disturbing either of us," Russia responded thoughtfully.

Russia took the note and read it again. "So do you not know where he went? He never mentioned it to you sometime last night?"

Japan looks over at him. "No, he didn't...May I share something with you Russia-san? Do not think I say this out of friendliness or kindness. I am giving you the truth. You will never have America-san's full attention. He will always be jumping around, saving the day here or meddling there. He won't tell you where or why he is leaving because he will not think of you long enough to think to say anything. It is impossible to be the center of his world for more than a fleeting moment. Even if he cares for you that is the way he is. America-san and his projects."

Russia begins to crumple the edges of the note. "...I can find a way."

"No, Russia-san, you can not. America-san will never belong to you because quite frankly it is impossible to pin down a dream. And that is exactly what he is. Perhaps you should consider that before you continue your inexplicable pursuit of America-san."

Russia watches Japan stand and adjust his hair and clothes. "Do you love him?"

The question is brimming with ill intent. Japan turns to look at Russia. "Did you know, Russia-san, that there is no direct way to say 'I love you' in my native tongue? And have you ever considered that the English word 'love' can be seen to represent a wide spectrum of meaning for a single emotion? I do not know what you mean when you ask that. I do not know what you consider love, nor do I care. The relationship I share with America-san is perfectly adequate for both of us as it is."

Russia rests his arms on his knees, head tilting to one side. "You would have been very useless to talk to when I was first conducting research. Then again you are not a romance country either."

"No, certainly not. Perhaps the non-romantic countries should consider the fact that they are not romance countries for a reason. America-san seems to understand. I had thought up to this point you did as well."

"...Are we less deserving of love just because it is not in our nature?" It's an honest question. This factor had not even occurred to Russia.

Japan is silent for a long moment. He finally bows his head. "I must be getting along then. Goodbye Russia-san. I do hope we do not see one another anytime in the near future."

"Goodbye Japan. I warmly return the sentiment."

Russia looks back down at the note as Japan leaves the room. He frowns softly at it, wondering where his little dream has gone off to now.

~.

America looks around the terminal, removing his sunglasses. His eyes feel a bit sensitive to the light. He had awoken out of his light doze with a hangover and one bitch of a headache. A shot of alcohol and a headache pill had helped both problems but he still felt god awful. His stomach also feels iffy at best. The ride on the airplane had played absolute hell with it.

Not to mention wriggling his way out of Russia and Japan's death grips without waking them had been a task that had required all the skill he possessed. Sneaking out was just as hard. He is not quiet by nature and there had been so many times he had knocked something over or made some sound it must surely be a miracle he got out without alerting the two in his bed.

Still, when he sees Italy smiling cheerfully and waving enthusiastically it feels completely worth it. He waves back, hurrying over. Italy takes hold of his sleeve. "Ciao America! How are you?"

"I've been better. But that's not important. How about yourself?"

Italy sighs. "Ve... I'm so nervous. I don't know about this America... Do you really think we can pull this off?"

"Pft, fuck yes we can! Because I'm goddamn America and you can bet your ass that with me on your side we're going to slaughter them! Er, metaphorically that is. Let Operation Anti-Cockblock commence!" He laughs and throws an arm around Italy's shoulders, giving him a reassuring squeeze.

"Eep! W-we decided to go with that name huh? I don't know..."

"Come on Italy. You really love the guy don't you?"

Italy's face turns bright red. "S-sì...Do you think it will work?"

America gives him a thumbs up. "Duh! Of course it will! I'm going to distract Prussia like no one has been distracted in the history of mankind! And as for you, you gotta tell Germany how you feel. That parts all up to you so take heart Italy. If you can't then the whole operation is doomed from the start. So you know you can do it right? I believe in you and I know if Ivan was here he'd believe in you so you think you can handle it?"

After all Italy seems like he needs all the support he can get.

Italy nods slowly. "I...yes...I c-can do it. I...I know I can do it!"

"That's the spirit! Okay! Hey, do you have your flag of surrender?"

"Ve? Of course. I always carry it just in case."

"Can I see it for a second?"

Italy pulls it out and hands it to America, curious. America proceeds to snap it in half and throws it into a garbage bin they pass. "V-ve!? Why did you do that America?"

"No backing out now! Full steam ahead! YAHOO!" He grabs Italy's wrist and starts running, letting a burst of adrenaline push away his exhaustion. He's not quite sure where he is going but he knows he is getting there fast.

"A-America slow doooown!"

"Never!"

The two of them sprint through the airport, causing a general ruckus as they push through the crowd.

~.

America and Italy hide behind a hedge of bushes, spying on Germany's house through the branches. "So you remember the plan right?"

Italy swallows hard. "Y-you go to the house and distract Prussia. I wait ten minutes then go into the house. I'm not supposed to knock, just go straight in and find Germany then tell him... tell him how I feel."

America nods approvingly. "Good, that's perfect. Remember to wait a full ten minutes. It might take a while to get Prussia settled down. But don't wait too long. I can only hold that crazy bastard off so long."

"A-America, but what if Germany isn't there?" Italy looks close to tears.

America smiles reassuringly and tousles his hair. "If he isn't there I will be out of that house way before the ten minutes are up. Don't worry Italy. It will be okay. I promise."

Italy leans over and kisses America lightly on the cheek. "Grazie...For everything."

"Just my duty as a hero. Now you just wait here. Pay attention to the time."

America stands and walks towards the house, back straight. He mentally prepares himself for what is to come. He has even worn his lucky American Eagle t-shirt. Victory is surely his.

He pauses in front of the door, takes a deep breath, then knocks loudly. A few moments later Prussia opens it. He looks at America in surprise then smirks, leaning against the door frame.

"Guten Tag, Amerika. Are you here to see West? You know you're not getting past me. You shouldn't have wasted your time coming all the way out here." He grins cockily, eyes looking him up and down hungrily.

America smirks. "Who said I was here to see Germany? I came to see you Prussia."

A spark of interest and delight flashes through the red eyes. "Oh? And perhaps this is a trick to get in the house to see my brother."

America sighs and shrugs. "You don't believe me? Fine. I'll go. And to think I came all this way to see you."

He pushes his hands in his pockets and starts to walk away. Prussia tilts his head, staring at America's ass. He bites his bottom lip then calls out to America. "Warten! Come back America, I've decided I want to play after all! Who am I to deny anyone who wishes to bask in my awesome?"

America looks back at him, pretends to think about then returns slowly. "I don't know. You obviously have no trust in me. Why should I stick around?"

Prussia chuckles. Oh how he loves having a worthy adversary. "Well, as you said, you did come all this way, ja? Make me trust you. I dare you."

America takes off Texas and examines them for a moment before putting them back on. "Hmmm, is Germany here?"

Prussia crosses his arms. "Ja, West is here. What about it?"

Bingo! Confirmation that Germany is around. Operation Anti-Cockblock can proceed. "Well how about we go to your room. I won't go anywhere near him. Won't even say hello. Feel free to keep an eye on me the whole time."

"And this will make me trust you?"

America gives him a coy smile. "Won't it?"

A grin gradually appears. "Fine. Come in America and keep those pretty lips closed until we get to my room."

America follows Prussia through the house until he stops at a door. Prussia opens it to reveal a staircase. "Go on down. I'll get some beer."

He pats America on the shoulder before shutting the door behind him. America hesitates. Surely it won't take Prussia too long to get some beer. He descends into the basement.

~.

Germany flips through a book entitled 'A German's Guide to Dealing with Friends Who May be Enemies.' After searching for such a book everywhere he had mentioned it to Austria. Turns out he owned the perfect thing, the current book he is reading. Apparently he had used it as a reference guide many times in his friendship with Prussia. He had been glad to let Germany borrow it.

Prussia suddenly bursts into the room. "Yo West!"

Germany frowns disapprovingly at him. "Do you have to be so loud all the time? Who was at the door?"

Prussia shakes his head. "No one, no worries. Hey, I just came to tell you something okay?"

He throws his arms around Germany's neck. "If you think you hear something that sounds like 'Oh dear god, please save me Germany!' you are completely hearing things. And then if later you think you hear something along the lines of 'Oh yes Prussia, give it to me harder!' then you are also hearing things. Ja Bruder?"

Germany stares at him, eyebrow twitching. "...I cannot even tell you how little I want to know what you are talking about. Now if you are just going to be annoying go away and leave me alone."

Prussia lets him go. "Grumpy. Just saying. Now the awesome that is your brother is going to his room. Oh and I'm stealing some beer."

"I expected you to buy more!"

"Ja, ja, I will West. Anyway, get back to your personal improvement or whatever boring thing you're doing."

Prussia leaves the room whistling and Germany rubs his forehead. "He gives me a headache..."

~.

America looks around as he reaches the bottom of the staircase. 'Hm, that's kind of harsh. He doesn't even get a room upstairs? Then again if it was me I wouldn't want him mucking about all the time either.'

The only place to sit other than the bed is at a computer desk. America goes for that. He's already tempting a beast, no need to make it easy. America sits in the computer chair, spinning in lazy circles before stopping in front of the computer.

It seems to be open on a blog page. It only takes a moment of skimming for America to realize that it's Prussia's blog. It's mostly about Prussia talking about how awesome he is. Big surprise there.

Something cold is placed against the back of his neck and he jumps, gasping. Prussia cackles behind him. "Bier?"

America glares up at him, voice flat. "You're a riot."

"I know. So you checking out my blog? You should subscribe! It's your daily dose of awesome." He hands a can of beer to America who takes and opens it, still a pinch miffed.

"I'll think about it. Might be hard to take that much narcissism in one sitting." He drinks from the beer hoping it'll ease his returning headache.

"Well we know you have to deal with your own so our narcissism combined might very well overwhelm you."

"Ha ha, you're hilarious."

"We've established this America, remember?" Prussia smirks and America can't help but grin in return.

Prussia tugs at America's shirt. "Now move your ass. I have to finish an entry. Might as well add you in too."

"Really, that's not necessary." America gets up and reluctantly sits on the bed, drinking his beer in silence as Prussia clicks away on the keyboard. Soon half the beer is gone and America figures Italy must be mobilized. 'God's speed, Italy.'

Prussia stretches, and spins to face America. "Sorry 'bout that. Can't disappoint the fawning readers you know."

"No problem." Anything that wastes time is good. How many readers did he actually have?

Prussia stands and makes his way to the bed, sitting very close to America. "So America, what compelled you to come visit me other than my general awesomeness?"

America takes another sip of beer, trying to put a little more space between himself and Prussia. "I'll answer that if you answer something for me first."

Somehow Prussia manages to slide even closer. "Hm. Depends. Ask and I'll decide if I feel like telling you."

"Okay, what's up with you keeping Italy away from Germany? I mean the guy is a total dope. Surely you don't really believe he's plotting against him."

Prussia roles his eyes. "Usually I wouldn't. Cute kid but he couldn't plot his way out of a paper bag. But when it comes to West I can't help being overprotective. And it would be especially hard on him on the off chance Italy is planning something against him."

America raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Prussia puts an arm around his shoulder. "Germany loves that adorable fool. And I mean it. A while back I weaseled this info out of Austria. Top secret shit so don't go blathering it to everyone like the idiot you are."

"Like you're one to talk!"

"You want me to continue or not?"

America keeps his mouth shut.

"That's a good boy. Turns out that back during World War II Germany proposed to Italy."

America jumps in shock. "What?! No way!"

"Ja, no kidding right? Germany proposing? Didn't know what he was doing. He's so confused about human interactions. I don't know what happened, but Italy obviously didn't accept. Broke West's heart. So even though usually I wouldn't think Italy was able to do anything very effective, he's hurt West before. I'm not going to give him the chance to do it twice. Germany may be a clueless idiot but he's _my _clueless idiot and I want to protect him."

America stares at Prussia. "I'm... really surprised."

Prussia winks. "That I'm capable of not being an asshole and having noble intent? It surprises me too."

America quickly processes all of this new information. 'So Prussia is just shielding Germany because he thinks Italy might be up to something that would hurt him and he's got an overprotective brother complex going on. That makes sense. So this should be smoothed over pretty easily. Especially if Germany really is in love with Italy. Though if he rejected him before Germany might not be so keen to accept his feelings now. I hope it works out for the best... Shit but that means Italy won't be an available love interest for Ivan anymore. Oh well, at least he scores the 'significant other default friend' which counts for something.'

Prussia watches America brood, taking a swig of his beer. "You know, I'm sure England feels very much the same way I've been feeling about you and Russia right now."

America comes out of his thoughts. "You think so? I guess he is pretty worried... He shouldn't be though. I can handle things myself."

"Can you? It is Russia. I must admit, I don't see why you're with him. You're pretty awesome most of the time and he decidedly is not."

America frowns. "He's weird but-"

"But nothing! I lived with that bastard! I will never forget-!" Prussia pauses for a moment and composes himself. "That asshole treated me like shit because he had a grudge against West. He might be putting up some kind of front for you but I know he's a monster. And I know how much he hates you."

"How much he...?"

Prussia nods. "I keep journals to preserve the super awesome that is me so that others may always remember how fucking amazing I am and was. Wasn't much to write about when I lived with Russia except how unbearably cold it was, how I was starving all the fucking time, or what that creep said. There were a lot of things about you. I have it, I even remember which one it's in. You can read all the lovely things he had to say about you..."

Prussia reaches over and grabs his chin, smirking. "But it will cost you. What do you say America? Want to know what he really thinks about you?"

~.

Italy creeps into the house, wincing as the door creaks on its hinges. America hadn't returned so Germany must be somewhere. He swallows hard, tears in the corners of his eyes.

"I can do this," he whispers to himself.

He starts looking through the rooms, trying to be as quiet as possible. His heart pounds uncontrollably. He has no idea where Prussia and America are and he's afraid he'll come upon them and ruin the whole thing.

Finally he opens a door and his breath catches. Germany is sitting on a couch reading a book. Italy stares at him for a moment, face feeling unbelievably hot. He tries to make some sort of sound but his vocal chords refuse to work.

Germany feels a prickle on the back of his neck and abruptly looks up. His eyes widen when he sees Italy blushing in the doorway. He snaps the book closed and hides it behind his back. "What are you doing here?"

Italy winces at the gruffness of the question. "G-Germany...C-can I p-please...tell you s-something?"

Germany stands, book still awkwardly clutched behind his back. He feels more in-control now that the shock has worn off. "Yes, I think we need to talk. Tell me what it is and then I have something I want to ask you."

He had to be direct. Just come out and say it. 'Italy, do you have some kind of plot against me.' Italy is the kind that's so easy to read it will be on his face even if he tries to lie about it. Then this whole thing can be solved.

Italy walks further into the room. He feels hyper aware of everything. He swallows hard and finally looks up into Germany's face.

"I...Germany I know...You see I..." He pauses and builds his courage. He doesn't have his white flag. There is no surrendering. The words come out in a rush. "I know you said you wanted to be just friends but I have to say this. Please don't be angry at me, I'm really sorry, but I have to let you know that... Ti amo, Germania!"

He lowers his head, sniffling softly. "...I love you Germany."

* * *

Translations:

Warten-Wait

**AN: **I think it's interesting that Germany in Italian is 'Germania'. haha I am not referring to the country there. Seppuku is committing ritual suicide, in this case to regain his honor. And the proposal Prussia mentions is referring to the Hetalia Valentine Special. There was a huge misunderstanding. Germany thought Italy loved him and Italy thought Germany was just really angry at him -laughs-


	29. Chapter 29

Hey all~ Here's the second exciting half of the events from last time! -laughs- This chapter was a hoot to write. I love Prussia so much. I am amused that some people are saying 'He's being such a jerk/dick right now!' Isn't he always? Hehe

Also, I am leaving Thursday to go to an anime convention (yaaaaay) and will not be taking my laptop. So this is probably my last posting of any kind until sometime next week. Unless I get super inspired and finish anything before I go. Well, just to let you know.

And did you guys hear about the terrorist bombings in Moscow? Why do people have to do shit like that? It's terrible!

* * *

America stares at Prussia for a moment. Prussia smirks at him expectantly. "Well America? Do you want to read it or not? There are some very juicy little lines in there. Russia has an interesting way with words."

"..." Does he really want to hear what Russia said about him?

America brushes Prussia's hand away and laughs. "Nah, tempting but I don't really want to read it. I'm not one for history. Besides, if this was during the Cold War I can guarantee you anything he said about me can't even be half as bad as what I said about him. I'm sure I wouldn't disapprove of anything he may have said more than I disapprove of how he treated you anyway. Speaking of you, I'm sure any price I would have to pay to see it would be much steeper than I'm willing to pay."

He takes a drink from his beer. He knows Russia hated him during the Cold War. And he had legitimately hated Russia then too. But Russia hadn't tried to deny it, ever. In fact he admitted that he disliked him before. How had he put it... They had seen the worst of each which allowed them to explore the best parts of each or something. He doesn't need to hear it. Old words. Everyone has their history.

Prussia frowns before a smile flickers back into place. "Well, I'm flattered that you care. But you aren't even a little curious?"

America grins at him. "Sure, but not that curious."

"How boring. I was hoping to make you beg a little. Oh well, you'll be doing plenty of that soon enough."

America raises an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

Prussia grins and leans in, draping his arms around America's shoulders. "I'm talking about how you'll be begging for more when I claim your vital regions."

America flushes and starts to push him away. "I think you're getting a little eager there."

Prussia starts to twine his fingers in America's hair. "Oh admit it America, you came here for one thing and we both know what that is."

Shit. This had escalated far too quickly. He's not sure how much longer he can bide for time without getting claimed by Prussia.

"What, won't you even buy me a drink first?" He laughs nervously.

Prussia comes in far too close, lips brushing against America's cheek. "I got you a beer babe. The drink obligation has been fulfilled."

America stiffens. "Look, the last thing I came here for is any of that. So back off."

"Stop playing hard to get America. Reserve that for your boyfriend. I just want to fuck." He licks America's ear.

A disturbed shiver goes through America's body. "Ugh! Get off!"

He elbows Prussia in the chest, quickly slipping out of his grasp. He scrambles to his feet. Prussia rubs his chest and licks his lips. "If you want to play it this way that's fine by me. I like a challenge."

America dumps the remaining contents of his beer over Prussia's head as he lunges towards him then turns away. He hopes Italy's confession is done because he's not sticking around any longer.

Prussia wipes his face and growls low in his throat before launching himself at America's retreating back. He wraps his legs around America's torso and slips an arm around America's neck. "For the Empire!"

"Herk!" America starts pulling at the arm that is cutting off his air supply and staggers backwards. His legs hit the back of the bed and he falls down, his full weight falling back on Prussia.

Both of them make an 'oof' sound as they land. For a moment Prussia loosens his grip and America gets a gasp of fresh air. However the air is soon cut off again and he begins rolling, trying to get Prussia off him. He doesn't want to hurt him too badly so he's restraining himself but the guy is like a freaking animal! After a few moments of grappling and grunting America suddenly finds his chest pressed against the bed, one of his arms pinned behind his back with Prussia grinding against him.

"Mm, I like this view of you America. Are you going to stop struggling now? Or do you like the feeling of being conquered? Is that why you're with him? Does it give you a thrill? Well I can do that for you too. Prepare to get the thrill of your life mein lieber."

He leans down and bites America's shoulder, teeth bruising the skin beneath his shirt. America yelps and forces the two of them backwards. The next thing he knows they are on the floor, a pile of groping and grasping limbs. America tries to crawl away and Prussia grabs his legs. "Oh no you don't Amerika! Come to big Bruder Prussia!"

"Hell no!" He yanks one of his legs free and lands a blow with the bottom of his boot to Prussia's forehead.

He pulls his other leg away and makes a break for the stairs. Prussia gets up and rubs his forehead, growling again. He jumps to his feet, close behind America. He grabs one of his legs halfway up the stairs, making him trip. He pulls America down and starts to pull at his pants. They begin to slide down his hips.

America desperately holds on to his pants. "Damn it! Let go!"

"Not a chance! You're mine America! Give in to my awesome seduction and I'll fuck you so hard you'll come in three different languages!"

"Thanks but no thanks!" America slips from his hold again and stumbles up the stairs, barging through the basement door with Prussia at his heels.

~.

Germany stares at Italy, his face turning a bright shade of red. The book he is hiding behind his back falls to the ground with a thud, remaining there unheeded. He feels dizzy and confused.

"You what?" It comes out sounding much harsher than he intends.

Italy winces. "I'm sorry! Please, I just wanted to tell you... Can we please still be friends? Because I really do love you Germany and I don't know what I would do without you! I'm sorry it's so selfish but I wanted you to know and... and..."

He begins to cry loud, shameless tears. "Please don't hate me Germany!"

"Stop crying this second!" Italy just cries harder and Germany gets more flustered. "I demand you stop crying!"

Italy buries his face in his hands, still sobbing. He has ruined everything. Now Germany is really angry at him. He doesn't like him anymore.... What is he going to do?

Germany feels like he might pass out. He wishes Italy would stop crying. It's making this even more difficult. How can he think when his heart is pounding so hard?

"I'm sorry Germany, I'm so s-s-sorry!"

It feels like he might overload. He has felt this way before, long ago. He pushes through the feeling of being overwhelmed and hugs Italy fiercely, his face flushing even deeper. "I said stop crying! Th-there's no reason to cry!"

Italy's tears turn off almost immediately at the shock of being so suddenly embraced. "G-Germany? You d-don't hate me?"

"Of course I don't hate you!" He takes a deep breath and makes an attempt to calm himself so he doesn't sound so angry. "Of course I don't hate you Italy. I...I lo-lo-lo-"

He's practically choking. Italy looks up at him, eyes widening as Germany trips over the word. Is he trying to say...?

Italy clutches the back of Germany's shirt, face delicately hopeful. "Does... does Germany feel the same way?"

Germany swallows hard and nods, face the picture of embarrassment. Italy brightens and he starts laughing happily. "Really? Really, do you promise Germany? It's not just to make me feel better?"

Germany leans down and presses his forehead to Italy's. In a voice so soft Italy he can barely hear he whispers, "Ja, Ich liebe dich."

Italy holds him tightly, pressing his face against Germany's chest. "I'm happy...I'm really happy Germany. I love you! I love you so, so much."

Germany holds his slim body, not trusting himself to speak. He is trembling, afraid to move in case he does something wrong. Italy pulls back slightly and wipes his eyes. He reaches up and takes Germany's face in his hands, pulling him down slowly. Germany stiffly lowers his neck, resisting a moment as Italy lifts himself on the tips of his toes. All of the tension flees him as Italy presses their lips softly together and he all but becomes jelly.

"So there... was no plot?" He mumbles the words against Italy's lips.

Italy pulls back, eyebrows raising in confusion. "Ve? Plot? What kind of plot Germany? Like a farm plot? Or a movie plot? I don't get it..."

"N-never mind." He would ask America about it sometime. For now the thought is utterly pushed from his mind. "It's not important."

Feeling like he might burst for a thousand reasons, Germany kisses Italy again. For now, this is all that matters.

~.

America starts to run down the hall. He has to get to the front door. Has to get to- Prussia grabs the back of his shirt and tugs violently. America nearly slips backwards and Prussia takes the opportunity to pin him against a door. "You're making this so difficult America... Do you want to exhaust me before I get to the good part?"

"I'm fine if it never gets to the good part!" America reaches down, his hand finding the doorknob. As Prussia leans in to snatch a kiss America turns it and the door swings open. They practically fall into the room then freeze, both of their jaws hanging in shock. Germany and Italy seem to be hardcore making out.

"...West?"

Germany looks up, his eyes huge. "B-Bruder? America? Wh-what are you doing here?"

"Germany..." Italy whines.

The look on Germany's face is of pure embarrassment. "I..."

Prussia blinks then grins. "Can I join~?"

Italy turns, face set in an uncharacteristically hard expression. "No! Germany is mine so back off!"

Germany looks like he might collapse. Prussia seems pretty taken aback himself. America laughs loudly. This is awesome! His plan had totally worked! He gives Italy a thumbs up sign.

Italy smiles softly at him before turning back to Germany, pulling him back into a kiss.

"Okay, let's leave these two alone." America grabs Prussia's arm, pulling him from the room.

Prussia stares straight ahead, a stunned look on his face. America fixes his pants and straightens Texas, wondering if he's alright. Then Prussia snorts and starts laughing, clutching his stomach. "O-oh gott! West's f-face! It was priceless! Who knew Italy had it in him? That was awesome!"

America is surprised by the response. "It doesn't bother you?"

Prussia grins at him. "Of course not! I mean I would have liked to have scored with Italy but..."

"But you made such a big deal of keeping him away."

Prussia shrugs. "West really needs to get laid. And I really like Italy. As long as he's not messing with West then I don't mind them as a couple. Besides, then I get to harass them at the same time. Two for one!"

He cackles and America shakes his head, giving him a bemused smile. "You're not so bad Prussia. You crazy son of a bitch."

Prussia winks. "Ja, I know. Though now that I think about it I can't help but wonder what Italy is doing here at all, being so sneaky. And I can't help but notice this occurred right after you came. ...You were just here to distract me weren't you?"

America gives him a peace sign. "Distraction unit. Operation Anti-Cockblock was a huge success."

"Operation Anti-Cockblock?" He cackles again. "Heh, well you sure pulled one over on me. It just makes me want you even more. Russia doesn't deserve you. Once you wake up and realize your mistake come to me, ja? I'll give you the time of your life and then some, hm America?"

America grimaces. "We'll see."

Prussia grabs his ass. "I'll be looking forward to it."

"Er...yeah. Tell you what, e-mail me a link to your blog. I think I'll subscribe after all." He can keep an eye on Prussia's actions through it.

Prussia grins at him. "No problem! Today will make a sweet entry."

America sighs. "Please don't."

Prussia laughs and America smiles weakly. "Well I guess I'll be going. I did what I came to do."

He moves to leave. Prussia grabs his arm and stops him. "Sometimes I think if that capitalist pig just disappeared the world would be a much more tolerable place."

America frowns. "Excuse me?"

"Something your boyfriend said to one of those Baltic countries. Lithuania, that bitch who stole some of my territory when I still had some. Just thought you had paid enough for that one line." He releases America's sleeve. "See you around Amerika. Sooner rather than later I hope."

America looks at him for a long moment then shakes his head. "...Don't harass those two, got it? Last thing they need. So long, ya crazy bastard."

"Ja, you slut faced piece of ass."

America scowls at him and Prussia smirks, waving flippantly. America leaves the house, keeping an eye behind him until it is out of sight to make sure Prussia doesn't pull a sneak attack. He finally relaxes.

While that had definitely not been the smoothest mission and he still feels a bit violated, America feels that buoyant giddiness he got when he helped the other countries. It has been a while since he's gotten that satisfaction. Too bad it's tinged with what Prussia had said.

He frowns. 'Damn it, that shouldn't even matter.'

America calls a cab, sitting on the curb and trying to focus on his victory.

~.

America sits in the terminal, idly staring out the window. Italy and Germany are together thanks to him. (Even though technically he had almost destroyed their relationship, but that was just a minor detail) He wants to brag about it but the one person who might even remotely care is...

He bites his lip and groans. "Fine."

After a moment of digging through his pocket he pulls out his cellphone and dials Russia's number. It rings a few times and then Russia's voice comes on the line, distinctly cool. "Alfred. How nice of you to call me."

"Yo, you didn't do anything to Kiku did you?"

"I did nothing to your precious Japan. We have a...truce of sorts. He left almost as soon as he woke up. Is that all you called for?"

What is he so pissy about? "Good, that's good. Look, I'm on my way home."

Russia sounds exasperated. "From where?"

America blinks. "Eh? You mean you don't know? Germany. I mean...Huh, I thought you would have figured it out."

"And why should I know you're in Germany?" There's that testy tone again.

"Well you figured out I was in Canada without me saying anything. I assumed you'd know I was in Germany when I left."

There's a pause of silence. "...You mean...you didn't say where you were going because you thought I'd know?"

"Duh."

Russia's voice warms considerably. "I see. So that's it... Why are you in Germany?"

America almost gushes then decides he wants to say it in person instead. "It's really awesome. You're going to be really impressed. I'll tell you when I get back. God it's so cool!"

"Well, I'll be looking forward to hearing about it then."

America looks out the window again. He can see his airplane. "Hey Ivan? What's your opinion of me? I mean like, your harshest critique of me. Don't hold back. I'm totally serious."

Russia sounds puzzled. "But why?"

"Just do it, it's important."

"...I think you can be a complete idiot. You stick your nose where it doesn't belong and you are more arrogant than you really have a right to be."

"Is that it?"

There's a pause. "Should there be more? I guess I could think of other things."

America laughs. "Nah, that's good. I thought as much. Thank you."

"You're so strange sometimes Alfred. Why do you ask anyway?"

"Mm, just confirming that I made the right decision about something. I'll see you in a few hours."

"...Alright. I am looking forward to seeing you. Goodbye Alfred. Have a good flight."

"Yeah, yeah. See you Ivan."

He hangs up, smiling slightly. Just as he thought. Russia's opinion of him is much more mild now. Anything he might have heard from Prussia would have caused unnecessary anger on his part. That is all said and done. Not only that but now he knows for sure that Russia hadn't placed a tracking device on him.

Boarding begins and America stands, stretching. He feels good, light. Now even Prussia's comments have no hold on him. It would be good to get home.

* * *

Translations:

mein lieber-my dear

Ja, Ich liebe dich-Yes, I love you~

**AN: **Hurray, sub-plot officially completed~ Now let's see if we can ever get Russia and America together hmmm?

Ah and Lithuania claimed some land that had been part of the Prussian Empire in the confusion of post-World War 1. Little brother Nazi!Germany came and intimidated Lithuania into giving it back....maybe early World War 2? I can't remember the exact year. Sometime in the late 30s.


	30. Chapter 30

Hey y'all~ Fuuu sorry for the wait on this! I was sick all week the second I got back from the convention. I'm almost through it but it's been misery. Plus I had to play catch up. Oh but the convention was fantastic! Best one I've been to in years~ I lol'd because Vic Manamana (not actual last name) was there as one of the special guests and many jokes were made. Some great panels too. And the dealer's room! -dies- There was a whole booth on original Hetalia stuff and I was in heaven~ I got a mousepad with lil' America and lil' Canada with England and a naked France perving in the background and I don't even have a mouse -laughs-

Congrats to Insanity Breaking Point for being my 900th reviewer! I can't believe how many I have! God I love you guys so much, all my readers are so good to me~

* * *

When America finally barges through his front door, he is feeling exhausted and terribly pleased with himself. He has been dying to tell someone about his heroically good deed today. As it just so happens he has an audience waiting for him.

"Ivan! Hey Ivan you here?"

Russia emerges from the kitchen with a bottle of vodka in hand, a small smile on his face. "Welcome home Alfred."

America hurries over to him, eyes shining. "Praise me! Praise the hero for his amazingly cool victory!"

Russia tilts his head, looking amused. "Praise you?"

He nods enthusiastically. "Yeah! You'll so never guess what I did! Okay, you are going to be so impressed. I totally-"

"You helped Italy get Germany," Russia interjects.

America blinks. "....Eh? How did you...? Holy shit, you totally do have a camera on me or something! Shit!"

Russia giggles at his wild assumptions. "Italy called me earlier and told me all about it. He wants you to know he is eternally grateful."

America opens his mouth then closes it, speechless. He sinks to the ground. "N-no fair Italy... Guh! I waited so long to tell you that and he already called! I thought he'd be too busy sucking face with Germany! Damn it, do you know how hard it is for me to keep things like that bottled up? It's so unfair!"

Russia crouches down and hugs America. "I am quite impressed. You did very well fixing the mess you made. Good job."

America blushes. "Sh-shut up! Don't make fun of me! It was a big deal for me even if you think it's so funny!"

Russia strokes his hair. "I am not making fun of you Alfred. I am serious. I am glad you took responsibility for your actions and that you have made Italy happy. Thank you."

America relaxes a bit in Russia's embrace, smiling against his chest. He loves the feeling of accomplishment after successfully doing something, and he loves being praised for it even more. Lately it feels like people only ever complain about every little thing he does. These days he'll take what he can get.

America pulls back. "Well, I want to tell someone about this. If you've heard it I'm going to call Mattie."

Russia quickly snakes an arm around America's waist, pulling him close. "Italy told me that you helped him, not how. So tell me. You keep running off and I want you all to myself for a while."

Too excited about telling his epic tale, he forgets to act all huffy about Russia's comment. "Okay, so first I totally escaped you and Japan with my amazing skill without waking you up. I'm so good it's out of control. Were the two of you totally shocked?"

Russia looks thoughtful. "It was very shocking. Particularly for Japan. I almost kissed him thinking it was you."

America freezes, staring at him and Russia winces. Perhaps he shouldn't have mentioned that. Still, perhaps he wouldn't mind seeing America be jealous. America just starts laughing hysterically, hitting Russia's chest. "Oh man! Poor Kiku! That must have just about killed him! I'll have to call and apologize to him. Jeez, I can't even imagine his face... Must have been great!"

Russia pouts. "You could be a little upset."

Why would he be upset? On Japan's behalf? He didn't think Russia would care about something like that. "Eh? What for, because you almost accidentally kissed each other? I'm sure you didn't mean to."

Russia sighs. "Go ahead and continue."

America nods. "Right, right! Okay, so then I was all getting off the plane and I found Italy. He was all nervous and I was like 'You can do it Italy!' and I broke his white flag and it was a very moving moment of youthful determination for an assured victory!"

"You are using too many strange descriptive words Alfred."

"Whatever. So anyway, after I thoroughly moved him with my awesome words of encouragement we went to Germany's house. We scoped it out all co-op style and then I went to the front door. Of course Prussia answered and I was all smooth and tricked him into telling me that Germany was there so Operation Anti-Cockblock could start."

"Operation what?" Russia starts laughing.

"You heard me. Anyway, stop interrupting my flow! Let's see, so I went in the house. Did you know Prussia lives in Germany's basement? Guess he does that to keep him out of his hair. Not that it seems to work much. He got some beers and was talking about his blog and I was like, using my distraction conversational skills. It was so working too until he..." He pauses, just now realizing how badly Russia might take this next part.

The hesitation catches Russia's attention. His voice sounds cold. "What did he do?"

"He, um..." He might as well finish it. He's made a mess of it already. "Did you know Prussia keeps diaries? I guess he has a lot of stuff about what you said while he stayed with you. Um...You were a real asshole to him."

"I did not do anything he did not have coming to him," Russia says stiffly, almost daring him to question it.

America frowns. That attitude bothers him. "...He wrote it down I guess. And the things you said about me. He offered to let me read it."

Russia's eyes widen and the anger slips, replaced with unease. "...He did?"

"I didn't end up reading it so you don't have to look so nervous. I mean that's all over. And I said tons of things too so... It's not like we aren't aware of what total assholes we were to each other. Anyway, so he offers to let me read it and I'm like 'No thanks, don't need to hear it.' Because I didn't."

Russia hugs him tightly. "That makes me very happy."

"Wh-what?! Man you're so weird! It just makes sense okay?"

"But it shows how far we've come that you didn't use it as an excuse to get mad at me. Ah, is that why you asked how I felt about you now?"

"Well... yeah I just... wanted to make sure I was right. Which I so was you know."

Russia kisses his cheek. "You are precious."

America flinches. "Nuh uh! Creep! God can I tell the story or not?"

"Da, continue." Russia loosens his hold a bit.

"So I tell Prussia 'No way dude.' Besides he wanted me to pay for it, if you know what I mean. And I'm definitely not interested in any of that. But then he like... attacks me! Fucking starts like, grabbing- er, um... Well he uh, attacked me, yeah, and we were...fighting! That's it, we were fighting. And my god that man can clamp on like I don't know, a tiny clamping device! It was so hard to shake him but I so did in the end like the badass hero I am and the mother fucker bit me and-"

Russia has already started frowning at this point, America's account of their 'fighting' not quite satisfactory, but the words make his eyes flash. "He bit you?"

"Well...um, yeah. It really hurt, too." He pulls back the collar of his shirt, hissing as he sees his shoulder. A dark bruise makes a perfect duplication of Prussia's teeth. "Fuck! Guy is like a shark! That looks so bad. Jeez."

Russia glares at it, running a thumb over the dark marks. America cringes. "Ouch! Careful, it's still tender."

"I am going to kill Prussia."

Oh shit. "Hey now, no reason to overreact."

Russia gives him a sharp look. "That ублюдок marked what belongs to me. I will not let him get away with marring your skin with his disgusting mouth."

"Hey! Stop referring to me as your freaking property! I don't see a giant stamp on my head that says 'Property of Russia' so quit it."

Russia rubs a finger over the fading hickey on his neck. "That is what this is for Alfred dear. And he seems to have promptly ignored it. For which I will cut out his heart."

America grabs his shoulders. "Why do your only two settings have to be super rare normal mode and really fucking creepy default? He bit me, I didn't let him do anything else! No need to kill him. He's not so bad. You know, he was being a total dick and all but he was just looking out for Germany."

"You think I care about that. His intentions do not matter to me, it is his actions I have a problem with."

"Look, he stopped when he found out about the mission when we accidentally burst in on Italy and Germany hardcore making out. Don't go kill him! I put myself in that position for Italy's sake, it's not like it's his fault. He didn't come looking for me. Besides, it has nothing to do with you! It was my mission."

Russia gives him an exasperated look. "How many times do I have to tell you? It is my business when someone else is trying to claim you. Only I have that right."

"You so do not! No one can claim me unless I give permission and I sure as hell haven't given it to you! And can I be frank with you? I think that Prussia wants to jump my bones because he has something against you. So you can be as pissy about this as you want but I had to go through that because of you!"

He looks at America in disbelief. "Me? What are you talking about? Why would he do that because of me? That makes no sense."

"It so does! I can tell you that Prussia has never been interested until you sent out that picture of us kissing. I think he wants my super hot body because he thinks it's yours. Which it so is not."

Russia frowns. "You are trying to tell me that you think Prussia wants to have sex with you because we are together and wishes to cause damage to me through you?"

"Because he _thinks_ we're together," America corrects. "And yes, essentially other than the fact I think he probably generally likes to have sex, I do think that. I mean, he jumped from me to Italy and Germany in a seconds notice. He can't be that serious."

Not that he'll ever reveal the intense struggle he had trying to keep Prussia off him.

Russia tilts America's face up. "Somehow the thought of his using you to get to me bothers me even more. I will definitely kill him next time I see him. And it will be painful."  
There is something almost...sweet about that. Well, okay, buried under a giant pile of psychotic creepiness. "D-don't be stupid. He's not worth your time. Look, I took care of it myself. I'm not a kid, I don't need you protecting me or getting revenge or anything."

"You continue to say that and yet every time you are alone somehow you get yourself in compromising positions. I think I need to keep a better eye on you, da?"

"No not 'da'! Look, I don't want you breathing down my neck all the time because you have jealousy issues."

Russia looks down at America's defiant face. _It is impossible to pin down a dream. _"But if I do not follow you, and if I cannot contain you, then I will always be left behind. And that is lonely too. So what should I do?"

The question takes America aback. He had been prepared for a fight, not that. How dare Russia pull his 'I am a lonely soul looking for comfort' card! Then again it reminds him that the reason he is letting Russia stay with him in the first place is to help him be normal so he can make friends.

America looks away. "Well, I mean... Part of getting close to people is learning to adjust around them. There are certain things you learn about them and either accept or you can't be friends with them. I do a lot of things and I have a lot of random whims I follow. I'm not leaving anyone behind, I just need freedom to go off on my little adventures. I'm sure there are things about you too right? Like it would be hard to be friends with you if someone wasn't willing to accept the fact you're...er, intense."

Russia seems to be brooding over this idea though doesn't seem to particularly like it.

"Okay, think of it this way. We all have to make concessions to our bosses. The same goes with other people except with friends you do it because you like the person, not because you have to. And, um, I promise I'll stay home for a while. Its been kind of crazy the last couple of days but I don't have anymore plans." He would just be staying home for the sake of teaching Russia more acceptable behavior. Of course.

Russia smiles a little bit. "You promise? Alright then. I was starting to worry I would never get any time with you to myself."

"Guh, don't say it like that! We're just hanging out, it's not like it's interesting. Can I finish my epic story now? I'm so tired."

Russia nods. "Please do."

"So I defeated Prussia and Italy and Germany are so together now thanks to me. And I saved the day forever the end!" Russia snorts and hugs America tightly as he starts laughing. "Hey, shut up! Don't you laugh at me!"

Russia kisses his temple. "You are so unbelievably amusing. And full of yourself. I find it more endearing than I once did."

America gives him a sour look. "You suck. If I were you I would just burst from amazement."

Russia nips the tip of his ear. "Shall I show you how impressed I am?"

America's eyes widen and he tries to pull away. "N-no, I can feel your awe and admiration in my heart. I want to go to sleep now. Do you know how little sleep I got last night you jerk? Or for the past like, weeks really."

Russia rubs his forehead against America's shoulder. "I am sorry. Let us go to bed then, da?"

"No one invited you!"

"Oh? But that is where I have been sleeping lately. It seems strange to kick me out at this point do you not think so?"

"I think what's weird is that you've been sleeping there at all!" He gives him a grumpy frown. He doubts he'll keep the big lug out of his bed. Russia's wearing his 'I am going to get exactly what I want' expression. Might as well use it to his advantage. He jabs his finger in Russia's face. "You can only sleep with me if you promise not to murder Prussia or maim him or anything."

Russia attempts to bite his finger but America pulls it away. "Hmph. You always protect the ones who make the least sense. It is a problem of yours. But if you insist I will not physically harm him."

"Good. Now time for bed. Remember to keep your hands to yourself tonight. Last night sucked."

"Whatever you say мой милый." He kisses America's cheek again before releasing him.

America scrambles to his feet, rubbing his cheek. "What, Russian endearments now?"

Russia smiles up at him. "Just trying things until I find one I like."

America rolls his eyes. "I'm going to bed. You have fun thinking on that big guy."

"You should think of one for me too, Alfred."

"Oh sure... I've thought of a few things I could call you," he mutters under his breath.

He stops by the bathroom long enough to brush his teeth then heads for his room, fantasizing about the moment his head hits the pillow. With the intention of running and jumping onto his bed, he throws his door open. And promptly freezes.

"Wh-what the hell!?" The entire room is filled with sunflowers. He takes a few steps in, gaping at them. Hadn't he just about gotten _rid of _most of the sunflowers?

"Something wrong Alfred?"

America jumps and turns. Russia smiles behind him. "Do you like them?"

He just points at them stupidly. "Where did these come from?"

"Me silly. I thought I should give you a present for fixing Italy's problem with Germany. And most of the sunflowers I sent you before were dead. They really brighten up the room don't they?"

"...Oh lord I'm so tired." America rubs his forehead.

Russia ruffles his hair. "Then go to sleep. I shall be in in a little while."

He strokes his cheek and America pulls away. "I'm gonna, you do whatever and remember to stay on your side of the bed!"

Russia gives him a deceptively innocent smile. "Of course. Rest well."

America raises a hand in response. Russia giggles and leaves the room. America sighs and glares at one of the bunches of sunflowers. "...So the sunflower devil strikes again."

He walks towards the bed, setting Texas on the side table. He squints at a large box he has never seen before and picks it up. Curious, he opens it. "Candies?"

He takes one and pops it into his mouth. A strong, icy sensation tingles across his taste buds. "Mints? This box is huge! Just how long does he think he's staying!? God, what a weirdo! Like I would use them for that anyway!"

He roles onto the bed, burying his face into the pillow. Still, all things considered he feels pretty damn good. For the first time in ages his mind feels at peace. Exhausted and content, America closes his eyes and, for the first time in nearly two months, immediately falls asleep.

A while later Russia finally comes in. He walks over to the edge of the bed and looks down at America. His face is relaxed, carefree. He looks very sweet in that moment. Smiling, Russia crawls into the bed and presses close to America, putting an arm around his waist. Mumbling softly, America turns towards the source of heat in his sleep. Russia represses a giggle and kisses his forehead.

"Goodnight мой подсолнечника."

Russia watches his sleeping face a while longer. It troubles him that events from his past might come back to effect his attempt at a relationship with America now. Making Alfred his lover is about escaping all of that. It had never even occurred to him that it might cause problems. This really is a lot more difficult than he imagined and things seem to constantly be reminding him.

Sighing quietly, Russia pulls America closer. He will protect him if need be. No one will interfere with his plans. Especially not when things seem to finally be coming together.

~.

Russia wakes up the next morning feeling well rested. He cracks his neck and slowly opens his eyes. America lies in the crook of his arm, head resting on his chest. It is decidedly much more enjoyable to wake up with America in his arms than Japan.

He begins to lazily trace circles along America's side where the skin is exposed. America makes an encouraging sound and smiles. Amused, Russia slides his hand across America's stomach, rubbing slowly. America mumbles, pressing against Russia.

Smile widening, Russia lets his fingers crawl along until they reach the elastic of America's boxers. He slides them beneath the waist, moving to curl around the half-hardened member. "Mm, having good dreams Alfred? They better be about me."

He chuckles softly, giving him a firm squeeze. America moans in his sleep. So America doesn't think his body belongs to Russia? Perhaps it is time to correct him. Russia pulls himself into a sitting position, dragging America's body between his legs to rest heavily on his chest. America's face starts to twitch, the movement bringing him closer to wakefulness.

Not wasting a second, Russia begins to slide his hand along America's cock, thumb teasing the head. America's breath begins to quicken and his face flushes a pretty shade. Russia reaches toward the side table, nudging the lid open on the mints and grabbing a few. He will need them.

America starts to sleepily thrust his hips against the hand, whimpering. "Yes...mmm."

Russia starts to leave a trail of kisses down America's neck. Such music to his ears, America's wanting moans and muttering.

America feels good. Really good. So much so it starts to pull him from his dreams and out of sleep. As his eyelids flutter open at first he is only aware of hot, wonderful friction. Then of soft pressure against his neck. Where...what...who...? Did it even matter when it felt so great?

He gasps as the pace increases again. "Nn! M-more..."

"You like that?" A small giggle.

America is suddenly a hundred percent more awake. Oh shit, this is actually happening! He turns his head, looking at Russia. "Wh-what the fuck do you think you're- Ooh~"

His head falls back for a moment as the hand teases him just right, resolve weakening. "Y-you bastard. Sneak attacking when I'm vulnerable!"

Russia kisses the edge of his ear, speaking huskily. "What better time to do it?"

America is just about to freak the fuck out on him when something is pushed into his mouth. His tongue tingles at the strong burst of mint and he coughs. No sooner does he recover from that then Russia is pressing an open-mouthed kiss upon him. Tongues and saliva and minty freshness intermingle and America's mind clouds over.

It has been so long since he has done anything like this, and one's own hand is a poor equivalent. He should stop Russia now before it's too late. Show him he has no intention of giving in just like that but... but... But it feels so goddamn _fantastic_.

Russia breaks the kiss, licking a trail of saliva from America's chin. He remains close to him, lips brushing against his cheek. "You once said you have needs, Alfred. I am more than happy to satisfy them for you, if you will let me..."

He smirks against his skin as America moans again. "I-Ivan you j-jerk..."

Giving him a light kiss on the lips, Russia changes the focus of his mouth even as his hand devotedly continues its task. With his free hand he pulls America's shirt away from his shoulder, revealing the bruise Prussia had left. He tsks at it and begins to run his tongue along the indents.

America clutches a fistful of sheets, biting his lower lip to muffle any more embarrassing sounds. He shouldn't let Russia do this to him. He can't let Russia do this to him! He's so close though. Surely, just this once it won't hurt...? It's not like he would ever let him get away with this again. And he'll definitely kick his ass for it later. But right now he doesn't want him to stop.

Russia can feel America giving in to him. His body relaxes against his torso even as he continues to arch against his hand. America is cute and still so young. He wants to be liked and to be praised. His ego is a weak point that Russia now knows, and it seems his body is as well. At least it is when America's defenses are down.

America's breath hitches and he twists the sheet in his hand tighter. Hopefully it won't rip, he's done things like that before on accident. His body feels hot. He can't take it much longer. "Ivan I-"

Russia takes the hint, tongue still playing over the dark bruises. Any and all teasing put aside, Russia begins to firmly stroke America as he begins to match up his teeth with that of Prussia's mark. America gasps and moans as Ivan simultaneously makes him come and bites his shoulder quite hard. The pain and pleasure clash and mix as America's body arches one final time into Russia's hand. Trembling and flushed, he closes his eyes as a warm glow lingers through his body.

Russia withdraws his hand and takes a deep breath against America's neck. "That is better... I hope you enjoyed that Alfred. Consider my IOU paid in full. I will go make breakfast."

He kisses America lightly, caressing his jaw, and slips out from behind him. "Perhaps you should go get cleaned up?"

Giggling, he leaves the bedroom. As the pleasure begins to fade America gingerly touches his aching neck and looks over at the sunflowers that fill the room with dawning horror. 'Oh dear God, what have I done?'

* * *

Translations:

ублюдок-bastard

мой милый-my dear

мой подсолнечника-my sunflower


	31. Chapter 31

Hello~ I wrote this all today so I probably overlooked some stuff. Oops. Oh man, wtf you guys I almost have 1,000 comments! I'm so psyched! I remember seeing a story that had more than a thousand comments before I started posting things and I was like 'how does that even happen?' and now that's almost this story! You guys... I love you so hard~ Seriously!

And more art has popped up for this story! I'm so happy. My little heart will surely burst~ I wonder if I should link to it on my profile? But I guess that depends on the artists -laughs-

* * *

America sits up and stares blankly at the sheets for a moment. What had he been thinking? How could he let Russia... let him... His face flushes bright red just thinking about it. Is he really so weak? His body has betrayed him!

He throws the sheets back, for the moment ignoring the embarrassing evidence of what he had allowed to happen. Steeling himself he rushed to the kitchen. "Russia you-!"

He stops short when he sees that Russia is holding a pan. "Da Alfred? And really, how can you use that name after what just happened? So cold."

Flushing again, America tries to shrug it off. "You... you tricked me you bastard! How dare you take advantage of me like that!"

Russia grins at him. "Take advantage...? I have no idea what you mean Alfred. You could have asked me to stop at any time. I really do not know why you are so upset. I did not even get anything out of it."

America sputters. "Y-you got to humiliate me and see me c-come by your hand! Literally!"

Russia starts laughing as he looks through the fridge. "Mm, this is true. I suppose that was a perk. You look very sexy when you want me."

He practically chokes. "I did not want you!"

"No? Your body disagrees." That damned smirk again.

"Fuck you! I can't help that! I was defenseless against your assault!"

Russia puts everything down and approaches America. He shrinks back, wincing as Russia touches his cheek. "I have no idea why you are being so sensitive about this. It is not so different than all of your 'friends with benefits', da?"

America gives him a fierce look. "Yeah, except one big, major difference. You don't just want to be friends!"

Russia pauses, eyes widening slightly. In the past America would have violently emphasized the fact that they are not friends let alone lovers. Now he simply said more than friends. Does America actually consider him a friend now? If so it's amazing progress. He feels a bubble of warmth in his chest and smiles pleasantly at America.

"This is true. But in practice it is not so different until I have succeeded in making you fall in love with me." He leans in to kiss America, who pulls away.

"You are such a creep! And what the hell was up with biting my shoulder? That hurt like a bitch!" Anything to change the topic.

Russia captures his waist. "I am sorry about that but there is no way I could allow you to keep wandering around with that smug bastard's mark on you. The only way I could think of getting rid of it immediately was to cover it with my own."

"Well I don't particularly appreciate it. You don't just bite people!"

Russia pinches his cheek gently. "Yes dear."

America bristles. "You're just making fun of me now!"

Giggling, Russia shakes his head. "Maybe just a little. It is not difficult. You really should get cleaned up now. When you are done breakfast should be ready."

Giving him a sour look, America pushes him away. "It really pisses me off the way you don't take anything I say seriously!"

"Do not be silly. I take it very seriously. Whether I choose to listen or not is a completely different matter."

They stare at each other for a moment, America glaring and Russia smiling away. America abruptly punches Russia in the chest, enough to leave him winded. "I'm taking a shower you jerk. Come anywhere near me and die."

He leaves the room, whole body tensed in battle mode should it be necessary. Russia rubs his chest and catches his breath. Damn he can throw a punch when he wants to. Mostly recovered, he shakes his head and turns back to the fridge. America is throwing one of his pissy fits now but he is undoubtedly coming around. The thought pleases Russia immensely and he hums as he works.

~.

America makes sure the door is locked for the tenth time before undressing, cringing as his fingers brush against a drying substance on his stomach he'd rather not identify. He turns the water on, waiting for the water to turn scathingly hot before stepping in. Gritting his teeth, he lets it run over his body and wash away the traces of lust that had weakened him. For a long time he stands under the spray, thoughts going haywire. He should have kicked Russia's ass. He should have said no. He should have done something, anything. So why didn't he?

He tilts his head back and lets it slam against the wall of the shower. Pain shoots through his forehead. "Gaaah I'm so fucking stupid! Why would I let that happen with Russia of all people?"

The answer comes to him, simple and unflinchingly honest: Because it felt damn good and he has been celibate for far too long.

But... but he can't be turned on by Russia! That should be physically impossible! With a blush, a ghostly feeling of that hand on him reminds him of the contrary. Okay so Russia can turn him on pretty easily. Not because he's attracted to him! Definitely not because of that... Surely he'd get that reaction from anyone in his current condition.

Not that Prussia had been particularly tempting to him.

Damn it, he has to stop thinking of things that suggest he might actually be attracted to Russia! That's just way too embarrassing for words. Besides, Russia is a possessive, creepy psycho. He can't be interested in someone like that! Not in a zillion billion years.

Sighing, he crouches down and holds himself. Why is this happening to him? Why did Russia have to go and do something like that? He isn't in love with him but the thought that he might be physically attracted to him is confusing.

He closes his eyes and Russia's words from earlier flash through his mind._"You once said you have needs, Alfred. I am more than happy to satisfy them for you, if you will let me..." _

A shiver goes through his body. What the hell is he thinking!? He rears his head back, smacking it against the wall again. "Fuck that hurt!"

He holds the back of his head, wincing. Damn it, this is completely Russia's fault!

Still, what he said about friends with benefits... When Russia gets to the point where he finally realizes that he's not actually interested in America and they do end up being friends... is he willing to be that kind of friend with Russia?

His head spins at the inner conflict that accompanies that thought.

Sex is sex no matter the relationship.

Casual sex with friends is no big deal.

They can only have sex if they are only friends for sure.

There is no way he can have sex with Russia, friends or not.

Why does this have to be so confusing?

He wonders what the hell the country half of him thinks about the issue. Closing his eyes, he tries to channel that part of himself for some kind of answer.

_So long as I don't stray from the path and accomplish my mission it doesn't matter what I do._

Oh that had been all sorts of helpful. Disgusted with himself on every level he stands and turns off the water, which is cold anyway.

Maybe it's okay...? Not that he wants to have sex with Russia but if they do some of the less serious stuff... Not that he'll ever start anything, it would only be if Russia started it-

What is he thinking about?!

He can't give up just like that! He's the United States of America! Pillar of freedom and strength and justice and-

What does any of this have to do with his sex life?

And with a shock he realizes that this has nothing to do with him as a country. It doesn't matter if he's the U.S.A. In fact it's completely irrelevant. This choice is his to make as Alfred. In the end it comes down to if he, himself, as an individual doesn't mind being sexual with Ivan. Not Russia. _Ivan._

And suddenly he is ten times more confused than before.

~.

England embroiders. It feels good to be able to use both his hands again. How obnoxious it had been trying to cope without either. Even when his arm had still been healing it had been exceedingly frustrating to do anything. Especially whenever France came over to try and 'help' and made a bloody mess of everything.

His phone rings and he sighs. He's been enjoying his free time. For a moment he debates letting it ring then decides it might be important. Hopefully it isn't anything troublesome. Putting his stitching aside he reaches over and picks up the phone.

"Hello, United Kingdom speaking. How may I assist you?"

"Konnichiwa England-san. This is Japan. I do hope I am not interrupting anything."

"Oh, hello Japan. Not at all. How are you?"

"Ah, I am well. Thank you very much for asking. And yourself England-san? Have you fully recovered from your injuries?"

"Yes, and about time. I have been fair enough. May I ask, is there a reason for your call or is it purely social?" Not that he minds if it is social. He likes Japan. Polite and brilliant, unlike some other people who could be mentioned.

"I did want to inquire on your current well being. I was concerned. However, I also have something of grave importance I feel you must know concerning America-san."

England sighs. He can already feel the headache coming. "What has the fool done now?"

Japan is silent for a moment. "England-san, I am deeply concerned for him. Perhaps it is not my place to say but I feel you should be aware if you are not already. I feel Russia-san may have something over America-san."

England feels a twinge in his arm and hands and he begins to scowl. "How do you mean?"

"It seems that Russia-san has somehow forced America-san to allow him to reside in his home."

The phone nearly slips through England's fingers. "He what?"

"America-san invited me to his home the other night. We were talking and he barged in and became violent and unpleasant. America-san was able to calm him but it was very disheartening to hear him say that he was a guest in America-san's home. And he did not deny it. I have no idea why he is tolerating that man's presence but... Well, I am concerned. He is even sleeping in America-san's bed."

"What?!"

"I am afraid it is true England-san."

England rubs his eyes, anger rising in his chest. "Has it escalated so much? I have been trying to stay out of his business as he requested but this is too much. That damned Russia... Thank you Japan, I appreciate your telling me about this. It cannot be tolerated."

"I am so glad you feel that way as well England-san."

"I will talk to you later Japan, I have some things I must see to. Thank you again."

"It was nothing England-san. I am simply concerned for the well being of America-san. Ja ne."

England hangs up, eyebrows knit with agitation. It seems Russia's assault is pushing past America's defenses. Not good, not good at all... England picks up the phone again and starts dialing. He has some arrangements to make, starting with booking a plane ticket to the U.S.

~.

Russia is contemplating eating without America when he finally appears in the doorway, hair still slightly damp. "There you are. The food is going to get cold if you do not hurry."

He is fully expecting America to launch into a second assault, hollering and kicking and scratching all the way through. Instead he quietly walks to the table and begins to eat. Russia is a bit amazed. The man across from him looks shell shocked, uncertain. None of the usual arrogant bravado he's used to at all.

"Are you quite alright Alfred or did something traumatic occur in the shower?"

America pauses and just stares at him for a moment. And then he scowls. "Traumatic? The only traumatic thing that has happened to me is what you did this morning. Shut up and eat, I'm fine."

That's more like it. Still, very odd. He shrugs and starts on his breakfast, watching America curiously.

Only silence passes between them for a while as they eat. Russia finally sets his fork down. "Alfred."

America jumps and glances up at him. He looks so restless. "Hm?"

"I have something I want to talk to you about."

America looks at him suspiciously. "Yeah? What?"

Russia looks at his plate thoughtfully. He still isn't sure how he feels about this himself. "When I was visiting with my sister Ukraine... Katyusha's boss has said that if I convince you to come talk to her she will be allowed to spend more time with me. I...am not fully sure of what may be discussed and I do not approve of this if it turns into something highly political. I am not... trying to use our relationship to my advantage. I know I said that this is to be purely personal. So... I just wanted to get your opinion on it."

He sounds so flustered it puts America more at ease. At least he isn't the only one that is confused about something. Plus this takes his mind off his personal dilemma. "Well, I wouldn't mind seeing Ukraine. I like her, she's a nice girl. And I mean, it would give you the opportunity to get closer to your sister right? That would be cool."

Wait... use their relationship to his...? Damn it, Ukraine thinks the two of them are dating too! Does the whole world share that opinion? It shouldn't surprise him but...

Russia is still apprehensive. "Alfred... If I take you to see her and she... If she is trying to convince you to change my mind about certain issues I do not want to hear about it. And bringing it up will anger me. In fact I would prefer if you asked her to stop should she try to bring them up. You know which issues those are I am sure."

There is some ice in those words and for a moment he glimpses the Russia he is more used to. The country he does not usually get along with rather than the human representative that has been trying to make them fall in love.

"...Yeah, I have a pretty good idea." There is an awkward pause. "...Do you want me to go?"

"No. Well, I mean yes... I want to spend more time with her but... I wish it did not have to involve you."

America isn't sure how to take that comment. "Well, if it means you get to spend more time with your sister," and totally move towards the goal of getting Russia to have more relationships, "I don't mind. I promise I'll somehow restrain myself from talking politics."

He hates politics anyway.

"I am not sure about this..."

America waves a hand. "I said it's fine. You want to get closer to Ukraine don't you?"

"Well yes..." Russia hesitates. "Alright then. If you think it will be okay and it does not bother you. I will call her and make arrangements."

Awesome, strengthening Russia's relationship with Ukraine sounds like a great idea! And maybe she'll have some dirt on Russia he can use to his advantage. God knows he needs it. Russia has scrounged up enough to keep him squirming constantly.

Finishing his breakfast, America tries to push away the thoughts that had been bothering him, instead focusing on the visit with Ukraine. Actually he's a little nervous about that too now that he stops to actually think about it... Hopefully it won't be a big deal. Lord knows he has enough on his plate as it is.

~.

England gathers everything he will need for the trip into a bag. Unfortunately he can't leave immediately. Still, he manages to arrange for something first thing in the morning. If everything goes smoothly he will be in the States by noon.

For a moment he considers calling America to tell him to be expecting him. He decides not to. A surprise visit seems to be in store to get to the bottom of this mess.

* * *

**AN: **Oh Japan~ And just so you know, if England is embroidering it is a picture of unicorn parade every time. _Every time. _Just saying. -laughs-


	32. Chapter 32

Hey~ Man, mid-terms have been trying to kill me, I swear! So sorry dears. Ah, I have hit 1,000 reviews! Congrats to xBeyondxBirthdayx! -confetti- haha I love you guys so much~ Um, I am so sorry I am behind on responding to reviews and messages and writing one shots. I'm working on it, trust me. I really have been very busy lately.

Also I have gotten enough complaints about this I guess I'll finally listen. Some people don't seem to like the frequent random bits of dialogue in other languages so I will be limiting my use of it. If it bothers people then that's that.

Mm, this chapter focuses a lot on Russia's changing behavior. I know some people have been worried about that. I've just been waiting so you need not be concerned~

* * *

After breakfast Russia moves to another room to call his sister as America sips his coffee looking distracted again. Dialing Ukraine's personal number feels strange and his fingers slip a couple of times. Finally he has the phone pressed to his ear, heart pounding.

A few rings and then a flustered, "Y-yes, this is Ukraine speaking!"

For a moment his voice sticks. "U-um, hello Katyusha. It is Russia."

"Vanya! I am so glad to be hearing from you so soon! Are you well?"

"I am having a rather pleasant morning." He smiles to himself. "Yourself?"

"Well enough. So..." She clears her throat sounding a bit uncertain, wanting to ask about the visit but being too nervous.

Russia decides to broach the subject on her behalf. "I have been thinking about what you said and I have discussed it with Alfred. He is willing to come see you."

Ukraine sounds relieved and happy. "That's wonderful news dear! I'm so pleased! Finally we'll be able to spend more time together."

"Yes. I am very excited for that. It has been too long. When are you free?"

She sounds thoughtful. "Mmm, well I think that I should be free this weekend if that works?"

"Da...I think that will be okay. We will see you then."

"O-oh! You're coming?" The stagger of surprise in her voice is unmistakable. Russia feels a twinge of pain.

"...I had no intention of bothering the two of you. I have something to do in Europe. I thought I would take care of that while you were speaking with Alfred then I would come up and spend a little time with you. Afterward the two of us would leave together."

"Oh...Oh I am so sorry... That came out sounding... Please don't be angry dear. I didn't mean it like that. I was just taken off guard because I hadn't even... That is... Oh I'm so sorry Ivan!"

"Do not let it trouble you Katyusha. It is understandable."

"Please don't say it like that Ivan. I honestly didn't meant to sound so rude. I do want to see you. I really do." A waver has entered her voice.

"Please do not cry. It was simply a slip of the tongue. No damage done."

She sniffles. "Th-that's right. I just misspoke is all! I... I can't wait to see the both of you. Give me a call when you have your flight information."

"Da, I will let you know immediately. I will talk to you later Katyusha."

"Ivan I-...Yes. I'll see you later. Take care of yourself."

"You too. Goodbye."

She murmurs a quiet goodbye and hangs up. Russia leans against the wall and wonders if this isn't a terrible idea. He can't help but wonder if Ukraine would rather see America or him. After weighing something for a moment he dials another number.

"Yes, hello?"

"Lithuania?"

"Russia? Hello, is everything alright?"

Russia pushes away from the wall and starts walking in tight circles. "Can you do a small favor for me?"

"Oh...Well, I mean I suppose so..." He certainly can sound resigned sometimes. Then again Russia has been asking a lot of him lately.

"If it is not too much trouble would you like to spend a day with Alfred and Katyusha?"

There is surprise and relief in his voice. "America and Ukraine? Of course! I would be more than happy to. May I ask what the occasion is?"

"The two of them are meeting. I have something I will be doing and I know if I want this to work properly I have to stay out of the way. I just cannot help but be concerned. So I thought perhaps you can keep an eye on them for me?"

"Er...Well yes I suppose... But why do you think you need me to watch them? You trust America and your sister don't you? What do you have to be worried about between those two?"

Russia unconsciously sighs. "It worries me. The thought of them talking through my arrangement... It does not sit well."

"Well maybe you should talk it over with America. I...please forgive me if I am intruding where I'm not wanted but trust is important in a relationship. I'm sure if you discussed it with him he would be able to reassure you that everything will be fine."

Russia remembers reading things to the same effect when researching relationships. Trust, and how it makes and breaks relationships. It's not like he is worried about America and his sister having a romantic connection. It is more so the country part of him that is uneasy about the whole thing. Besides, distrust is an underlying thread that has wound its way around any contact the two of them have had with one another for decades. It's hard to move away from that frame of mind.

"Lithuania, would this extend to his interactions with all people?"

"Um... well yes...? Why, are you having problems with someone else?" There is some discomfort in the question but Lithuania is doing his best. He wants very much for this relationship to work out. He does so like the idea of having an easier time being close to America and Russia really needs someone strong who can take his... unique personality.

"Someone else... Well, I suppose anyone else really."

Lithuania laughs awkwardly. "A-ah I see. Well I guess you have always been a bit...possessive. Er, but um, America really is quite loyal. I highly doubt you have anything at all to be worried about! And... it can be a bit..." He swallows hard. "...smothering when you are so overbearing about the interactions you will allow."

There is an audible flinch in the words. Russia knows he never would have dared say such a thing while still under his control. There is a long pause as he decides whether to laugh or become angry. He decides to go with a reaction somewhere in-between and gives a little giggle. "I see."

Lithuania begins to babble. "I am not saying it's... it's bad, er well I mean... Um, I'm not trying to insult you. I know it's meant well... But America especially isn't the kind of person who will understand, you see. He's such a free person. It's not like he'll do anything that you will have reason to get upset over. Um, well probably not. He's a bit dense sometimes but he almost always means well."

There's a somewhat condescending tone in Russia's voice. "Almost always. And how am I to account for the rest of the time?"

"But Russia... isn't that just a risk everyone has to take with other people? No one can control or understand someone else completely. Relationships, no matter what kind, are about taking that little leap of faith in other people despite the uncertainty. ...Right?"

"Are they?" Russia muses over this. "...So you are saying that if I disallow America to interact with others freely I am not doing it correctly?"

"Well... I don't know if I'd say 'not doing it correctly' but... I mean, it shows you trust him. Are you expecting him to go running off around the world? America stays home quite a lot you know, unless it is business related. Then again I suppose he was more into isolationism back when I was staying with him... Ah, but that is, um, I don't think he'll abandon you just because you give him a little breathing room."

"So I am smothering him and if I do not back off I am just a nuisance."

There is some distress in Lithuania's voice now. "I am not saying that necessarily. Please, I just... Don't worry so much. And if you are worried talk to America. Let him reassure you when you're worried. Just as you should listen to him when he tries to talk to you. I... I'm sorry, I guess this isn't any of my business at all. I never should have said anything. I will go and spend the day with the two of them if you still wish me to."

Russia nods slowly to himself. "You have given me much to think about Toris. And yes, I would still like that. I will talk to you later."

"Yes... Goodbye." He sounds relieved for the conversation to be done with.

Russia hangs up the phone and frowns slightly. While it irritates him, perhaps what Lithuania said has some truth to it. After all, America has repeatedly complained about his attitude towards his friends. Then again, perhaps it wouldn't be such a big deal to Russia if it didn't seem like half of the few friends he does have want to have sex with him.

As he thinks about it he realizes that it might be lonely if he takes away America's friends. He knows that feeling. He himself had started this entire thing because of his lack of emotional connections. It's just a shame America can't simply be friends with the people Russia is starting to get used to. Italy, Germany who is most certainly not interested in Alfred, the Baltics, his sister. ...Maybe not too much with Ukraine. It's not like he can see himself getting cozy with those close to America. He still has an ongoing grudge against England, his total dislike is met with complete symmetry by Japan, and what's his face is tolerable but wholly uninteresting to him.

This must be the dilemma of being friends with one's significant other's friends. He encountered this in his research as well. How exciting, he's getting to another stage in the relationship! Still, he finds himself a bit more puzzled and involved in this dilemma than he has been in past stages. He doesn't quite know how to describe it.

Russia sits quietly by himself for a while, trying to rectify this issue by finding a satisfactory solution. Giving America more space with others is undesirable but apparently it shows his trust. And really, America had proven himself twice now. He had pushed back Prussia's advances (because Russia knows without a doubt America's 'fight' with Prussia was nothing less than a sexual assault) and he had shown nothing but a 'friend' love towards Japan even when they had been in a situation ripe for passion. Is he being... irrational in his behavior? The thought strikes him like a bolt from the blue. Is he? He doesn't think so but... He supposes he hadn't thought about it before.

Because... America's happiness matters too.

There is an idea. Russia lets it bloom slowly, tastes it thoughtfully. Obviously he can't be totally unselfish. To make America completely happy he would probably have to leave with a promise never to bother him again. He simply can't let him go. But perhaps in lieu of this he can ease up and try to obey more of America's wishes instead of ignoring him all the time.

Is this...right? His attempt seems crude to him, but he feels like he has come to something important. Trust, compromise, mutual happiness... He will try his hand at them. Try being the key word. It will be his new goal to improve in these areas. He pulls out his notebook and starts writing down some of his thoughts lest he forget. No wonder people have such a hard time of forming bonds. It's really quite exhausting work, mentally and emotionally.

Once he is satisfied with what he has written, Russia takes out his phone again to start making arrangements.

~.

America sits at the kitchen table, writing out a letter meant for a certain statesman. He has been avoiding it but anything to keep himself preoccupied... Once the letter, with all its careful political bullshit formulated to an art America is grimly proud of, is complete America notices for the first time that Russia sure has been gone a while. Not that he cares what he's doing or is curious about why he hasn't been harassing him like the creep he is. Nope.

Something cold is pressed against the back of America's neck. He yelps and there is a giggle. "Thirsty?"

America turns to give a sharp glare at Russia, who offers a soda. He takes it grudgingly, popping it open with a hiss. "...Thanks. You know, for scaring the shit out of me like always. I sure love it when you do that."

A small smile. "Oh, then I will make sure to do it more often."

If America isn't so sure that Russia just says things like that mockingly, he would have wondered if he seriously didn't catch that his words were dripping with sarcasm.

Russia continues to smile down at America as he drink the soda and he begins to fidget under the gaze. "...What?"

"The plans are all set. We leave the day after tomorrow. You do not mind flying at night do you?"

Oh, that. "No, I don't mind. Though you could have consulted me. What if I was busy that day?"

Russia looks taken aback. "Oh... Are you busy?"

"No, just thought I'd throw it out there." America hates feeling awkward so being prickly is his immediate alternative.

There's a slight pause. "Then... next time I will ask you."

America nearly chokes on his soda. What the hell? Usually Russia would have just giggled or said 'how funny you are thinking I care' or something. "Uh... alright."

Russia leans down and wraps his arms lightly around America's neck. "I want to do something with you. And as much as I enjoy our bonding time over movies I would like to do something in which we actually interact."

A blush flushes across America's face as the first thing that comes to mind is sexual in nature. "L-like what?"

Another pause. "What would you like to do?"

America raises an eyebrow. Something is up. Russia is suddenly being much more courteous. "...What did you do?"

"Huh? What do you mean what did I do?"

"Oh come on, being so nice all of a sudden. You must have done something and you're just waiting to spring it on me. What is it?"

Russia loosens his grip around America's neck. "...Am I so terribly mean to you Alfred?"

The reproachful, somewhat hurt tone softens America's suspicion. "Well..."

As of late he hadn't been too horrible unless he was in one of his jealous fits. In fact now that he thinks about it Russia has been doing a lot less of the public humiliations. "You do have your moments."

Frequently, but maybe it's best to leave it at that.

Russia nods, as if taking a serious piece of constructive criticism to heart. "I see."

His face clears and he leans in, kissing America's cheek. "I have not done anything. I simply want to know if there is something you would like to do. If not I can try to think of something."

From America's experience nothing good can come of that so he struggles to find an activity. He blurts out the first thing that pops into his head. "Chess?"

Russia's eyes widen in delight. "Chess! Da, let us play chess. I have not had anyone worth playing against for a long time. Will we be playing with The set?"

America immediately knows what Russia is referring to when he says 'The set'. Back when they had not gotten along in the least there had still been rare times they were forced to peacefully interact with one another. They had coped by playing chess, using the same set that America brought every time. It had allowed them to challenge one another, to try and outwit one another, without getting violent or too nasty.

"Sure, why not? It's not like I play regularly either so I think that's the only set I have anyway. Clear the table and I'll get it." He stands, taking another sip of cola. Great, this is safe. He won't have to think so hard about confusing things for a while. Just strategical.

America digs through one of his closets until he locates a dusty old cardboard box. It is faded and yellowed and well worn from its various travels. Still, it has all the pieces and that's the only thing that matters.

By the time he returns the table is a blank canvas. He drops the box. "Black or white?"

Russia thinks about it then opens the box, pulling out the white king. "White."

America starts taking the black pieces out. "You just want to go first."

Russia shakes his head. "Oh no, I just always thought those colors were more suiting for us."

"And just what are you trying to imply hmmm? That my heart is black?"

"Something like that." Russia giggles, waiting for America to put the chess board out. "Oh you needen't make such a sour face Alfred. I am just teasing you. The white pieces make me think of snow."

America sets the board out with a 'hmph'. He wouldn't admit it but he actually prefers playing the black pieces. Something about them just seems more cool. Besides, according to his logic it shows more courage and confidence to not be afraid to let the enemy make the first move.

The two of them silently set out their miniature soldiers then sit across one another, looking at each other thoughtfully, wondering how sharp the other still is. Finally Russia makes a move and sits back with a smile. "Your turn."

The two are rather quiet the first game, getting used to the movement of the pieces as well as the other's frame of mind. It ends rather quickly with Russia as the winner. They begin to set up for a second game. "Care to switch?"

America waves his hand dismissively. "No, we'll stick to what we have."

"Very well." Russia moves a pawn and watches America. He's so attractive when he's actually thinking. It's cute the way his tongue pokes out at the corner of his mouth just a bit whenever he's on the verge of making a decision. He never noticed these things before. When they used to play he watched him with an icy smile, scrutinizing each move for weakness he could exploit.

"Alfred, if I win again-"

America cuts him off. "You won't."

"...Well if I do, I want you to do something. To read a little list for me if you would not mind."

America glances up at him suspiciously. "What list?"

"Finish your move." Russia gets up and grabs a pen and some paper. As America is thinking about what to do next, highly distracted by this point, Russia begins to write. When he hears the click of a piece being set down he slides the list to America, looking over the board carefully.

America picks it up and looks at the words. For a moment he stares at it uncomprehendingly. Then his face turns red with mortification. "Wh-what the hell is this!?"

Russia moves his bishop. "Hm? A list of words I want you to say."

America pushes it back at him. "Swell? Daddy-o? Bees knees? Sex-pot? Tarnations!? Why would you want me to say these things?"

Russia claps his hands. "Oh how sweet, you have already said about half of them for me! I came across a website about your quaint slang and have been wanting to hear you say some of them."

"Why?!"

Russia beams at him from across the table. "Because they are simply so amusing."

America pulls himself up with indignation. "Don't make fun of me, I bet you have them too! I just don't know any of them. And I will have you know that these words were for the most part the epitome of cool when they were around! Yo big Daddy, cool like ice on a vanilla breeze, you dig?" He snaps his fingers for emphasis.

Russia looks at him blankly. "Eh?"

He huffily moves his knight, not giving it much thought. "It's cool! I was always super awesome! That little bit was the Beatnik movement, 1950s. Very cool."

Russia looks at the board. "Oh, I would not know anything about that. I know so very little about you from that period of time. For obvious reasons."

"Oh... I guess that's true." They hadn't exactly been on speaking terms let alone sharing friendly culture jaunts.

Russia glances up at him from the board. "How about you tell me."

"What, about me?" Well, he does like talking about himself. "Okay I guess. Well of course during the late '40s and '50s everyone was all wrapped up in the red scare. And then there was the American ideal. Most people wanted to be the perfect family. Of course it mostly resulted in resentful women secretly becoming alcoholics. But Disneyland opened up, color television came out, the civil rights movement started, and there was Elvis. And of course the space race started between us. I suppose you remember that? I guess Capitalism really took off. And people started putting things on credit instead of waiting to earn things with money."

"So this is when you started to become double the brat you were at the time. Your move."

America gives him a sour look. "No it is not! Mm let me think..."

He talks slowly as his fingers hesitate over various pieces. "The 1960s had the lovely "I Have a Dream" speech by Dr. King Jr., The Beatles got big. God England and I used to just act like teenager girls over them together. So awesome. Hippies were big then. I grew out my hair and took more drugs than I think would be humanly possible."

Russia interjects softly, eyebrow raising slightly as America moves his bishop. "I do remember you getting very strange for a while. Ah, but I remember you getting very angry as well. Wasn't that Vietnam?"

America gives him a dirty look. "I don't want to talk about it."

"No? Not even now?"

"Want to talk about 1991 Ivan?"

"...Fair enough."

America glares at the board. "The '70s was the end of... that. And there was disco and _Star Wars_. The clothes were out of control. In the '80s everything was a fashion statement. Things got a bit out of control. But a lot of the fun was ending. People had overdosed, AIDS was discovered. There were some sweet video games that started coming out. It was a very strange decade. I liked the early '90s. Things were going really well. People still had some of that strange creativity from the '80s without the insanity. I was really content during that time. My people were overall pretty hopeful and happy. Not to mention a certain someone's reign finally ended and I won by default."

Russia gave him a chilling look. America smirks slightly then sighs as he watches Russia take his queen. "Then 2000 hit. A new decade... Of shit. Now everyone is so tired and angry and unhappy. Everything is miserable. I can't do anything right no matter what I do. It's hard when the people don't like you... I don't know how you put up with it."

"Has anyone ever told you that you are horrendously rude Alfred?"

America takes one of Russia's pieces. "Yes."

"Well, that is quite interesting. Though I probably could have found much of that out on my own. Someday I would like you to tell me a more in-depth account. And not just what happened. I want your memories. I want to know how you saw it and how you felt. That is what really interests me you know. Check."

Alfred blinks. "Huh?"

"Check, Alfred. That is when I am about to take your king, remember?"

America frowns at him. "No, that's not why I... Why should you care?"

"I told you Alfred, I am not interested in you as a country in the least. Only as a person. Must I keep telling you?"

America moves his king. "...Oh."

Russia's smile grows. Such a silly move. "You forgot that knights can move sideways, da?"

America's eyes widen as he realizes he has cornered his own king. "Shit!"

"Check mate Alfred. And... it comes and goes, their scorn. You should know that. And even when it keeps coming... Hm, I wish I could tell you that you get used to it, but that would be a lie."

Russia slides his piece to officially sleigh America's king. "Would you like to play again?"

He gives the board a disgusted look. "Not really."

Russia starts to gather the pieces into the box. America watches him for a while then clears his throat. "Hand me the list."

"The list?"

America looks away. "I lost didn't I? I'll read it, and proudly too. Everything I say is pure gold."

Russia brightens and he hands it back to America, looking at him with anticipation. America clears his throat again and begins to read. "...Groovy..."

Russia giggles looking more amused than he has any right to be. America continues on with dignity, wondering at the fact that all of these words had once flowed in conversations like water. And that he had used quite a lot of them too, if not all.

The list finally read, Russia quite pleased, America pushes up Texas. "I hope you are satisfied. Consider yourself improved."

"Oh yes Alfred. Please say 'hot dog' in that cute enthusiastic voice again."

"No!" America grabs the box with the chess set in it and strides out of the room. That was embarrassing. Seriously. Nothing came back to haunt someone more than the trends of youth.

As he is shoving the game back into the closet it occurs to him that he really doesn't know a lot about Russia either. Not just the period of time they had been fighting either. He doesn't know anything about him before they had met except for a random fact here and there and of course only negative things during their Cold War period.

Didn't the saying go, know thy enemy? America decides to look up some things about him. Of course he won't ask Russia. If he knows he is interested in finding out about him America would probably never hear the end of it. With a nod America resolves to research Russia the next free chance he gets.

* * *

**AN: **1991 is the year the Soviet Union officially dissolved. Golly gee I sure love American slang~ Most of it is just freaking adorable -laughs- Well, the older stuff anyway.


	33. Chapter 33

Hi everyone~ Sorry this took so long to get out! Oh school... I hate you so much.

Congrats to Wonderland Massacre, my 1,100th reviewer! For future reference, for the time being I am no longer accepting America and England as a couple for one shots. Requests for them will be denied unless it's a really good scenario. This is because I have quite a few things planned for them and just don't feel like taking on more. Maybe in the future.

I'm still way behind on answering reviews but I will catch up eventually. I can't wait for summer.

* * *

America doesn't get a chance to sneak away to try and research Russia all the rest of that day. Russia decides he wants to go out for lunch and the two spend the next four hours wandering around fighting over where to eat with America protesting Russia's actions that make them look like a couple in public. When they finally do settle the lunch itself isn't so bad and Russia is better behaved than usual. Until, that is, the fight over the bill which leads to a rather loud squabble, a bowl of soup being overturned (a complete accident America insists), and the two being banned from ever returning.

When they return America is in a bad mood and insists on playing fighting games which, actually, does a fairly decent job of helping them burn off their feelings of aggression towards one another. Though they finally decide to end on a draw as neither wants to admit defeat.

America actually does get some alone time between then and dinner but it slips his mind completely and he doesn't remember until he's getting ready for bed. At which point he curses himself for being so forgetful.

He doesn't have long to worry about it. When he walks into the bedroom Russia is already there. He smiles at him and pulls back the covers. America stands frozen in the doorway. In all of his forgetting he has also forgotten about the little 'incident' from this morning. How can he sleep in the same bed with Russia after that? He hasn't even decided what he wants to do!

Russia raises an eyebrow. "Something the matter?"

America quickly shakes his head. There's no way he'll let him know how much this has him bothered. "No nothing. Actually, yes. So help me if you try to pull something like this morning again when I'm all vulnerable I...I won't let you get away with it."

Russia giggles. "Oh? Understood."

What is understood? Russia has a funny way of understanding things in a way that is convenient to him. America gives him a warning look before walking over to the bed. "And keep your big ol' body to yourself, I mean it!"

"Da, alright Alfred." That innocent smile couldn't be more suspicious if it tried.

Hesitantly America slides into the bed and turns the light off. "Night."

He hugs his pillow, just waiting to reprimand Russia for touching him. There is some shifting but it doesn't come.

Why the hell doesn't it come?

Is Russia trying to fuck with him or something? Seriously, is this another mind-trick? Whatever it is it's bugging him and keeping him from sleeping again. And last night had been so wonderfully refreshing too.

America comes to the conclusion that it's best to get it over with rather then waking up at the slightest movement waiting for it to happen. Acting as naturally as he can, America rolls over and fidgets until he feels his arm pressing against Russia's body. There. So long as they're already touching he won't be freaking out all night long.

And then Russia moves away. America grits his teeth. Who the fuck does he think he is? Choosing to believe the big stupid Russian is simply asleep, America firms his resolve. This bastard can't act like he's not the one who has been pushing for physical contact for the past two months.

Yawning loudly he turns again, haphazardly throwing his arm over Russia. See if he can retreat from that shit! There is a long pause and America settles firmly against the pillow. Russia hasn't moved. Seems he's won. So there. Now he can get some sleep.

As he falls into a restful sleep—briefly wondering when the hell it had become okay for the other to sleep in his bed—Russia bites back a giggle at America's odd, hypocritical behavior. He really is just too cute for words.

~.

When America wakes up the next morning he is both refreshed and alone. What ideal conditions. He thought he'd never experience them again. He sits up and stretches leisurely. How weird... Russia seems to have behaved the whole night through.

After a while of sitting in a daze, having a staring contest with one of the sunflowers, he gets up and heads towards the kitchen for coffee. He hears Russia's voice and walks into the room curiously. Russia sits at the kitchen table with his laptop and papers scattered about. He is speaking Russian with someone. America doesn't bother to try and decode it.

Russia looks up at him and says something into the phone before putting a hand over the mouthpiece. "Good morning sunshine. I am doing some work that needs to get done. I hope you do not mind getting your own breakfast this morning."

America shrugs. "Done it for most of my life. I think I can manage."

Russia nods and begins to talk to the phone again. America busies himself with getting coffee and cereal—gotta love the basics—still feeling a bit perplexed. As Russia has taken up the kitchen table, America eats in the living room, watching the news for a while before switching over to cartoons. At least cartoons don't try to pretend they're not a mindless distraction.

After doing that for a while he takes a shower and does his awesome grooming. And even after all that time, when he peeks into the kitchen Russia is still hard at work, typing something now. He withdraws. Maybe he should get some work done. He does have a few things piling up...

Oh damn, screw work! Russia is distracted! This is the perfect time to look him up. America pulls out his laptop and sets it up in the living room. Once he gets the Internet up he goes to the ultimate source of information....Wikipedia.

'Hmm, okay let's just type in Russia...' He waits a moment for the page to load and his eyes widen. 'What the fuck!?'

The page is huge!

Wait, how long is the entry on him? He opens a new tab and types in United States of America. He compares the scroll bars and scowls as he sees Russia's is longer than his. He sulks a moment before he reminds himself he should be focusing on looking into Russia's history. He closes the undoubtedly awesome tab about him and begins to skim through the information.

There is a lot to read. _A lot_ a lot. America starts to frown. It's tiring. And there's so much... and there's all these words he can click on to get further information, and pictures to look at. And after a while he notices that despite the already incredible length of the entry each article is the barest bones. There is so much he must be missing out on. He begins to despair. It's all too much while not being enough. The one thing he does get a gist of is that a lot of it is kind of sad...

He returns to the top and starts glancing through the list of entries. He pauses at one of them and clicks on it. Reading through it he smiles slightly. He remembers parts of this section of Russia's history. Well, now he does. He had forgotten, hadn't he? Had made himself forget when he knew tsarist Russia.

"What are you doing Alfred?"

America jumps as Russia, who has magically appeared at his side, looks over his shoulder at the computer screen. "Ivan?!"

He violently clamps his laptop shut. But Russia had seen it long enough to get an idea of what he's up to. "...Were you looking at what I think you were looking at?"

America flushes. "No! I totally wasn't looking at anything! I just.... was checking...to see whose Wikipedia entry is longer!"

Russia stares at America and his eyes are shining. "You were looking me up! Oh, that makes me terribly happy Alfred! But why are you using the Internet when you have the original article right here? I can tell you the things that are actually important. And after all, you know they always get things wrong, the humans. Believing what they want to or what they've been told. They forget."

"So do we," is America's only retort.

Russia tilts America's face up. "Da...I suppose we do. ...But I am still so happy! Please, tell me what you want to know. I will tell you anything."

He is pushing America's laptop aside and next thing America knows Russia is straddling his lap. "Please, do not be so shy Alfred."

America flushes. "H-hey! You're heavy you know! And I- I just wanted a general overview. Out of vague curiosity. That's it! ...Er...h-how old are you?"

Russia giggles as America vainly struggles to justify himself. "Hmmm how old am I..." He thinks about it for a moment. It's hard to keep track. Finally he leans in and whispers his best estimate into America's ear.

America's eyes widen. "Holy shit you are old! Man I feel like a little kid... Doesn't that make you kind of lecherous lusting after someone so much younger than yourself?"

Russia's smile widens and he cups America's face. "Mmm, I do not think so. Age is just a number. How old one is inside is much more relevant."

"Oh, so you're the kid then?" America can't help making the snide comment what with Russia's little kid voice and often childish behavior.

"Oh trust me Alfred, you are most definitely a child as well. What else do you want to know?"

Alfred looks up at him for a moment, hesitating before asking, "Being so ancient and all... have you ever died?"

Of course, their definition of death is completely different than the usual meaning. Death for them is not always permanent if the country is revived. While a country can die forever, it can also come back, restarting as the same but new. The idea is curious and a bit scary to the young nation.

Russia's face becomes drawn, thoughtful. "...I do not know. I do not think we are supposed to know, even if we do. If I have, I do not remember. I always remember being Russia in some form or another, though my name has changed quite often. So maybe not."

America grimaces. "I would hate to change my name."

"It is not such a big deal when you are used to changing it. And no matter what name I have gone by as a country I have always been Ivan. That never changes." Russia silently smiles down at him. "I really am very touched that you are taking an interest in me. Whenever you think of something you want to know just ask me. It is silly to look it up when I can tell you so much more."

America tries to shrug nonchalantly. "Like I said, I was just curious..."

"Curiosity can be a very lovely thing Alfred." Russia leans in and kisses America softly.

America stiffens uncertainly but does not immediately pull back as he might have in the past. Russia picks up on this and takes advantage of the moment of weakness. Deepening the kiss, he runs a hand down America's chest and begins to rub one of his nipples through the shirt's thin material.

This elicits a shiver from America, whose heart begins to pound. Oh god, what should he do? What should he do? Push him off? Let him keep going? No, but if he let him keep going shouldn't it only be if he's decided he wants to be friends with benefits for sure and has discussed the parameters with Russia?

Oh shit, when did Russia start using tongue? America moans softly as Russia runs his tongue smoothly along his own. He's unbuttoning America's shirt. America has to make a choice now. Russia pushes the shirt off of his shoulders and breaks their kiss. His lips begin to glide down America's neck.

America clutches the back of Russia's coat tightly. "W-wait, wait this is...too fast. I can't... I don't know..."

"You are so uptight sometimes Alfred. Where does that come from? Hmm?" He runs a tongue along America's collarbone.

"Well you know, I do have influences from a strong Puritan background with a lot of other reserved groups worked in. I can work it when need be." Like when he has to ease his strong desire for sex in times when it is not convenient.

"I hardly think you need use it with me Alfred. You do not want to enjoy the occasional reward?"

America is about to retort when Russia's teeth clamp down lightly on his nipple and he hisses sharply. His face flushes as Russia sucks and teases with his teeth and tongue, first on one nipple then the other. He barely notices that his jeans have been unbuttoned. Russia breaks away and smiles at him. "Please do not be apprehensive Alfred. I will treat you very gently."

Russia slides off the couch and kneels between America's legs. America stares down at him. "T-treat me gently? What the hell! You're making me sound like some delicate maiden in some shitty romance novel!"

Giggling, Russia leans in and starts kissing and sucking on the skin of America's torso, traveling down to his stomach. Face hot, America watches him. He still has time to tell him no but he's becoming less willing the further down he gets. In fact he feels anticipation building. So long as this doesn't get any further than this it's no big deal. No big deal.... Right?

Russia rubs America's crotch and he has to bite his tongue. "Is this alright Alfred? I will stop if you want me to."

America is somewhat taken aback by the words. He's actually asking him what he wants? Well, as of late he has been better about stopping when America tells him to... Russia really has been acting weird. Wait, does that mean he actually has to ask for it? That sucks! Then again he had protested so much in the past technically this is an improvement. It doesn't feel like one at the moment. America's face burns and after a long pause he nods quickly.

With a gentle smile Russia leans in and runs his tongue around America's belly button. He starts to drag America's jeans lower on his hips. America feels both guilty and excited.

There is a sharp knock on the door and America almost screams from surprise. He turns his head, eyes wide. What kind of timing is this? It's either divine intervention or the biggest fucking cock-block in the world. "I-Ivan, the door."

"What about it?" Russia continues on undaunted.

Is he serious? "...Someone is knocking. I have to answer it."

"Why?"

The knock comes again, more insistent. "Come on Ivan, stop. What if it's important?"

"Nothing is that important Alfred dear." He pulls the pants even lower.

Flustered and a bit impatient, America finally snaps at him. "Seriously, stop it!"

Without further warning the door bursts open and a very fierce faced England barges into the room. His mouth is open in preparation of spewing spit-fire and fury. The words seem to die as he catches sight of America and Russia on the couch. There isn't any way to interpret what is happening in any other way than what it looks like: Something extremely lewd. America wants nothing more than to sink into the floor.

After a moment of floundering England seems to refocus. "What are you doing to him?!"

Russia pulls back only slightly and gives England a very annoyed look. "I was about to perform a sexual act on him if it is not obvious enough."

America's face turns bright red and he wonders if one can die from embarrassment. He pushes Russia's face away as tries to pull his pants up. "Wh-what the fuck Arthur? What are you doing here? Why did you just barge into my house like you have a right?"

England looks completely incensed. "What am I doing here? You ungrateful brat! I come all this way to make sure you are not being taken advantage of and this is how you treat me? Excuse me for caring! I hear you yell 'stop it' and I am expected to turn away and let this beast have his way with you?"

Russia frowns sharply. "Beast? I will have you know I had consent."

And it just keeps getting worse. "L-look there is some kind of... of misunderstanding in here somewhere...What are you doing here again? Like, why did you come in the first place?"

If possible England looks even more insulted. "I suppose it is because I suffered a momentary loss of sanity in which I thought I actually cared about your well being. But surely I am mistaken. How can I care about a bloody bastard like you?"

America tries to calm his anger which has sprung up out of embarrassment. Especially as he remembers what Prussia had said. That England can't help but be concerned. He is just, as always, being the overprotective big brother.

America takes a calming breath as he struggles to get around Russia and on his feet, tugging his pants up the rest of the way. "L-look sorry. I just... I really didn't expect... Do you want tea?"

"You ask if I want tea? Like that will help anything? Well bloody right I want tea!" England glowers at him.

Russia stands. It seems there is no getting things back on track. A shame. America had been so responsive... "I will make his tea Alfred."

America raises his eyebrows in surprise then nods. Yes, that is definitely for the best. He does not want these two alone together.

Russia smiles at England. "I am so pleased to see you have completely healed since last time."

England gives him a look brimming with hate and America puts up a hand, waving Russia away. "Y-yes, you seem to have fully recovered! Guess France didn't do anything too stupid eh? I'm glad."

Russia disappears into the kitchen, England's eyes trailing after him fill with hostility. He turns the look on America. "You idiot! What is happening here? What mess have you gotten yourself in now?"

America gives him a sour look. "And what makes you think I've gotten myself in a mess?"

"Oh I wonder! Finding you in such a compromising position with that...that... What happened to your hand?"

America looks at him blankly. "Huh?"

England seizes the hand that Belarus had injured. By now it no longer needs to be bandaged but there is still an ugly scab. Really it looks worse than it is. England runs a thumb lightly over it then looks up fiercely at America, voice low. "Did he do this to you?"

"Oh that? No, not Ivan. It was-"

"_Ivan?_"

"Would you let me finish? It was Belarus and she was a ghost but not really and then I said an epic speech but she went bat shit crazy so we had to run then that idiot got his scarf in the door and I was all like 'guess it's up to me' because I'm the hero so I bravely-"

"Periods and commas were invented for a reason!"

America rolls his eyes. "So I bravely took my stand against the kraken!"

England smacks the top of his head. "Can't you take anything seriously?!"

America rubs his head and pouts. "You're so mean! God. Fine, against Belarus okay? But when I opened the door she sliced my hand. But it was okay, I punched her and we escaped."

England rubs his eyes. "Your ability to tell a story is atrocious. What are you even talking about? When was this? Where did it happen? What is the context? Were you with Russia when this occurred?"

America sighs. This is going to be harder than he thought. "I am talking about how I got this cut, it was a while ago, at an abandoned building, yes I was with him... was there another question in there somewhere?"

England stares at him for a long moment and shakes his head in disgust. "Alright, so it was Belarus. I guess that's as good of an answer as I can hope for. She is insane so I don't have a hard time believing it. Now can I ask what he is doing here?"

"You mean Ivan? I'm letting him crash here for a while because his sister is, as you said, insane and he's afraid of her. It's no big deal."

England puts a hand lightly on America's shoulder, voice soft. "Look, you don't have to lie to me. If you need help you can ask."

"Lie to you...? Why do you think I'm lying? That's all that's going on. I am letting him crash here. That's it."

"Japan called and told me that he was blackmailing you or something and was sleeping in your bed!"

America frowns. Why would Japan call England about that? It's kind of irritating that no one can leave him to his own business. They weren't exactly helpful when this mess had first started and allies would have been welcome. Except England who botched it. "It's not like that. Er... well... um..."

Okay, so Russia has been sleeping in his bed lately... But England really doesn't need to know about that. The look of doubt on England's face does not disappear. His eyes suddenly widen and he pulls at America's shirt. "Hey!"

"Dear god, what happened to your shoulder?"

"Oh..." That bruise sure did look ugly. "Uh..."

"I don't suppose Belarus did this too, hm?"

America pulls his shirt back on his shoulder and starts to button it up. "W-well no... Technically that one is a mixture..."

Russia enters back in with a mug of tea, giving England a cheerful smile. He returns the look with the utmost fury. "Here is your tea England. I hope it is to your liking."

England takes it only because Russia all but lets go of it the second he presses it to England's hands. "Oh, as if I am going to drink a single sip of this! I have no doubt that you've poisoned it or some such thing. And where do you get off doing something like that to Alfred?" He points with one hand to America's shoulder.

Russia tilts his head. "Oh that? Well I very well could not let evidence of Prussia's filthy mouth remain on his lovely shoulder could I?"

"Prussia's what?"

America waves his hands. "Whoa! I do not think this conversation needs to continue. Look, can we not talk about my body here and rewind just a little bit?"

Russia looks at the mug in England's hand. "You have not tried your tea yet."

England shoots Russia a dirty look. "No, nor do I intend to! To what point do you want to rewind this conversation?"

America gives him an exasperated look. "Oh I don't know, can we get back to why you're here?"

Russia interjects cheerfully. "How about to before you got here?"

"Piss off! Look Alfred, I intend to work this thing over with you until I am satisfied. Please do not make me suffer through this with Russia making his snide comments and being a menacing presence the entire time!" He takes an involuntary sip of tea and blanches. "This is green tea!"

America takes it from him quickly before he can throw it across the room. "Now, now, calm down-"

"I am calm damn it!"

America gives Russia a miserable look. "It just had to be green tea, didn't it?" He turns back to England. "Now if you'd just sit down for a-"

Russia watches America try to soothe England for a moment, wondering how best to get rid of him when Lithuania's advice occurs to him. "Ooooh, right!"

England turns to look at him. "What's 'right' you creep?"

Pointedly ignoring him, Russia pats America's shoulder lightly. "Do you want me to go on a walk while you take care of this?"

America gives him a look of intense relief and gratitude. An expression he's certainly not used to seeing. It's rather cute. "Yes, oh please yes would you?"

If he can get Russia out of the house he might actually smooth England's ruffled feathers. Russia nods. It's not like he's concerned about England anyway. Now if it was Japan... "Da, no problem. Have a nice chat you two."

England all buts shoots bullets from his eyes until the door closes behind him. "The nerve. Green tea. Green tea! Alfred, why is he here?"

"I told you, he's crashing here while-"

England waves his hand. "Yes I know that but... Why? You never would have let him stay here before. And after that business with starting the rumor about his being your lover... this won't exactly help dispel it. Now, tell me everything and start from the beginning."

With a heavy sigh America tries to unroll the tangled web of how Russia had become a guest in his home both for himself and England.

* * *

**AN: **England... He just cares too much -laughs- Poor dear.


	34. Chapter 34

Hi~ About... three weeks and I'm done with the term -sighs-

I am going to try something. From now on when there is Russian I am going to have it in non-romanticized letters. However, the friend who is doing this for me does _not _speak Russian and is going off some conversion thing? If it's incorrect please feel free to tell me and if you know what it should be that'd be just golly gee great! -laughs-

* * *

It's not too hard to start. England knows about the early stages when America's only objective had been to try and get away from Russia's creepy as hell clutches. "I think it all went wrong when you had to go and confront him. He all came to my house and... and was like 'how dare you involve him?' And I was like 'oh god what did you do to England you bastard?' and-"

England interrupts. "Wait, this took place before or after you came to see me?"

"Before. So he knocks me out and I wake up chained to a chair and he feeds me dinner and we... We talked about things."

"...What kind of things?"

America looks away. "Things. So that was the start of it I think. Then after that... Jeez what happened next... Saw you... Then there was the fake aphrodisiac thing after he snuck up behind me with the note..."

"The what?"

"Sh! You're interrupting my concentration!" Putting things into organized lists and time lines is exceedingly difficult for America. He'd rather jump back and forth from a thought to a whimsy to an idea with no real rhyme or reason. In the end he always gets where he's going, it's the people around him who can't seem to follow.

"He wanted to talk to me... about what I thought he wanted and he made a big deal about my using his name. Somehow we watched movies together. My brilliant plan I think..." For once his words of praise are in self-mockery. "Let's see, after that was the Italy dinner fiasco. And Kiku showed up and that's when he first seemed to get really involved now that I think about it...And I made that mess between Germany and Italy."

"You seem very good at creating chaos wherever you go," England interjects sourly.

"Would you stop interrupting? Jeez. Um... what happened... so there was that... Oh god and the embarrassing mental image! Shit. I'm not even going to say what it was. Oh! Oh and later after that I went to Mattie's house to escape but somehow he knew I was there. _He knew_! Creepy as all hell! Still don't know how he pulled that one off. And he, he sent all these flowers to Mattie's house for me. Guh, and then when I got back he was waiting for me in the dark! Nearly scared me to death. He wanted to talk about Kiku."

"Japan? Whatever for?"

"Oh, some fight they had? Or jealousy. I dunno, he's a weird guy. Oh wait, that's right! He was asking about if I had sex with him."

"What!"

"Yeah... Well after that I called you, remember? You yelled at me for like twenty minutes because Russia had told you we had sex or something."

England presses his lips into a very hard line for a moment and grimaces. "I remember..."

"Hmm so after that was... the Belarus incident which I pretty much told you about. Then we had a long conversation about..."

He stops short. That is very personal information and is his alone to deal with. England doesn't need to know. "More things. Then I got pissed and was going to tell Russia to go fuck himself but then... uh... I changed my mind. And that kind of led to his staying here."

England stares at him, increasingly irritated. "This is useless. You are giving me events but I in no way can see how one led to the other. Not to mention there are big gaps. It's very vague."

America shrugs. "Well of course there were a lot of conversations between these things and all, and other events... Those are either too much to go into or are private. I guess somewhere along the way Russia pushed, talked, and accidentally fell more into my favor or tolerance level or whatever you want to call it. It's... hard to explain. Even I don't get it. When I think of it, look back on how it has come to this, it's all confused. I mean he's treated me like shit tons of times over the last couple months... but I feel like I understand him better too. And there are other circumstances... But I don't want to talk about everything. I'm allowed to have my privacy."

England sighs. As usual his former colony is stubborn and obnoxiously independent. "...How about we try this instead. I'll ask you specific questions."

America nods uncertainly. England thinks for a moment. "...So if I'm to get this straight... Russia is staying here with your permission, correct? He's not blackmailing you or threatening you to let him stay?"

Well... there is some blackmailing in there but overall it has been with permission. "No, I'm letting him stay of my own free will. I even gave him diplomatic immunity so his boss can't make him leave."

"I see... Is..." England coughs uncomfortably. "Is he sleeping in your bed?"

God talk about an awkward question. He fidgets uncomfortably. "...Yeah. It started as a fluke and now it's just sort of... a pattern."

England asks the one that makes him really nervous. "Are you... sexually active?"

America flushes. "Why the hell do you want to know you pervert?"

England glares at him. "I am not a pervert! I just want to know the extent of the relationship!"

America sulks. "We haven't had sex okay? He molests me all the time and he... uh, sort of gave me... a hand job yesterday morning. But it was totally a sneak attack! And what you almost saw on the couch was... It's not like that's the norm or anything!"

England scowls at the floor for a long time. He finds that disturbing and he wishes he hadn't asked. He had been hoping America would violently deny anything and everything as he has in the past. "So what is your relationship with him then?"

America shrugs one shoulder. "I don't know."

There is a pause. England puts his hands on his hips and looks at him. "...Alfred, I know I messed up when I didn't pay attention to you. I just barged in and tried to get in the way. And I suppose I've done that again. But please...I'd rather you just tell me the truth. I might get angry and I might yell and nag, but in the end it's your decision. In the end... I'll learn to accept it. So please be honest with me. I'd rather you tell me the truth than try to lie. When it comes right down to it I'm on your side."

America looks at him. He is touched by the sentiment, and maybe slightly annoyed. Still... "Thank you Arthur. That.... It does mean a lot to me. But I am telling the truth. I just don't... I don't know anymore. I always knew where I stood with him. He was my nemesis, my rival. And now... What is he? Someone I pity? My friend? Something more? I just don't know Arthur... What do I do? I'm really confused."

England sighs and shakes his head. He reaches up and puts a hand behind America's head, pulling it down to his shoulder as he slips his other arm around him. "My poor America. You have such a hard time relating to other people. What happened? You used to be so good at it. Just about everyone loved you once upon a time."

America frowns as a twinge of pain shoots through his heart. "Is that... supposed to make me feel better? Besides, they didn't love me. They were just greedy and wanted to own me."

'Including you' hangs heavily in the air and England stiffens. He clears his throat and continues, ignoring it. "Sorry, that's not my point... The point is, I've noticed it takes you longer to figure out your feelings towards people, that's all."

"I guess that's true." It is easier to assume everyone admires him and ignore anything else.

"Still... It is Russia, Alfred. Maybe you should be careful about this. It sounds like he's been manipulating your feelings. Perhaps you should think carefully and... not let him do too much until you figure it out. He's hardly shown himself to have pure intentions towards you through the decades. I doubt someone like him could really care about you."

America pushes away from England. "That's not fair to say. I mean maybe you're right about... about the first thing but... You don't know him or how he feels."

"Oh come on Alfred, he's never cared about you."

America feels himself prickle and a piece of history comes out before he's even aware he's remembered it. "Yeah well it didn't seem that way during my Civil War when you and France abandoned me and he was there for me!"

England winces. "That is hardly fair! Things were still sore between you and I and-"

"Oh fuck off England! We both know you sided with... with _him_, the goddamn Confederacy because of political reasons! You sided against me with... with... that other side of me! You would have seen me torn apart for your own interests if need be! At least Russia and I were honest that what we had was out of a mutual need for someone else!"

England crosses his arms, flushed with anger. "Well if you feel that way I suppose you don't need me here. Good luck with your problem, the two of you obviously deserve each other. Maybe your shared inability to feel something for another person will keep you happily trying to sort it out for the next century!"

He turns to leave and America watches him with angry tears that will never fall. England reaches the door when he bites back his pride. "Arthur wait!"

England freezes, hand on the door. "Why?"

"Please... don't go. I know I'm not supposed to bring those things up. I know those are the rules. I'm... I am really confused. Please don't leave. I don't want you to do anything or try to fix anything. I can take care of myself. But...would you please just... be here with me?"

After what feels like a long time England looks back at him. "...You really are hopeless."

America scratches the back of his head and gives him a lopsided smile. "Well... we knew that."

England lets out a slow breath and releases the doorknob. "I'll stay."

"I knew you would."

"And what's that supposed to mean git?"

America winks. "You always do no matter how big of a 'git' I am."

England bristles. "Maybe I will leave!"

America waves. "Come on, don't do that. I'll make you tea. Earl Grey. Sound good?"

"...Make sure to add milk." He walks over and plops onto the couch.

Giving him a thumbs up, America turns towards the kitchen. "Okay!"

~.

Russia sits on a bench playing with his scarf. He watches people and cars go by, taking in the sights and scents and sounds of Alfred's homeland. In many ways it is still exotic to him, sometimes repulsive, sometimes bewildering. How strange that so many people, climates, languages, thoughts, and ideas are united under one sky and tied together even when they don't blend. All represented by one man.

It occurs to Russia to wonder if America is ever overwhelmed. Then again all of them have their contradictions and differences to weather. At least he has been spared the many vicious uprisings, rebellions, and inner conflicts many of them have gone through. America seems to change through ideas and gradual action.

Perhaps Russia has learned that lesson best with his own experiment. Through his various strategies America legitimately has come to at least tolerate him more. And if England hadn't interrupted earlier there is no doubt what would have happened...

So America has come to like him? He wonders how much. And how much does he like America? Because he _has_ come to like America, odd as that is. Then again he had been fond of him when he was young. In a time when other countries had avoided him and treated him like a monster the young man had accepted his outstretched hand of friendship without so much as flinching.

If only America would be so obliging now with his hand held out for love.

He thought that the last few decades destroyed that platonic but very real fondness completely between them but it is slowly coming back. America is so cute. And when he isn't being a posturing, self-righteous, arrogant bastard, he can be rather endearing.

It is so precious that he looked Russia up earlier on the Internet of all things. Then again he's been using that as an extensive tool himself... Oh well, it's just so America. Things really are going well on both sides of things. Russia turns his face up to the sun and wonders how long he has to wait.

~.

England holds his tea in one hand and rubs America's back with the other. "I guess it's weird but... Ivan... Russia he doesn't bother me as much as he used to. But shouldn't he? I mean... is he just tricking me? Every time he's nice to me I can't help but think..."

He can't help but think it's all Russia trying to win him over to prove he can make someone love him. Does he mean any of it or is it just one big show?

"That maybe it's a lie," he finishes.

"And this is an issue for you? If it does why do you bother with him?"

America doesn't want to just blurt out that he is acting out a compulsive need to fix Russia. He knows that will just open the floodgates of lecturing. "...Well... He needs friends. Maybe if other people would give him a freakin' chance I wouldn't be in this mess."

"Maybe if he wasn't such a terrifying creep..." England sips his tea indignantly. "Really America, you can't take in all of the lost puppies of the world. And what is it with your desire to take in the most mangy and wild of the lot?"

America rolls his eyes. "Russia is not a mangy, wild dog."

"May I ask... What exactly _do_ you like about him?"

This gives America pause. He frowns slightly. "What do I like? Well... I guess... even though he doesn't listen to me most of the time it's not because he thinks I'm stupid or incapable because of my age. He...treats me like an equal."

It's even one of the reasons he chose America.

"And I guess he's ridiculously misguided but sometimes I think he really is trying to be nice and he doesn't know how. And when we're hanging out and he isn't trying to be really weird with me he's not so bad. I'd even say we've had fun." Not that he'll tell Russia that.

England sighs and reaches up, ruffling America's hair. What is he going to do with this troublesome child of his? "You really just like to play with fire don't you?"

"Cut it out! I do not..."

"Please... please, I beg you Alfred...Be careful alright? I know I can't make you do anything you don't want to do. Even if I scream at you until I am blue in the face it won't make the slightest difference if you've made up your mind. For whatever reason you want to take Russia in. Whatever underlying reason there is, whatever is behind his desire to make you fall in love with him... Take care of yourself. Don't let him hurt you or pull you into something you don't want to do. You will worry me to death someday, I swear."

America looks at England and chuckles. "I'm sorry."

"Hmph. No you aren't."

He chuckles again. "Whatever you say Arthur. I will though. I promise. I'm not a kid despite what everyone thinks. I know my actions tend to lead to bigger problems but in the end I always make it come back around. It's part of my charm."

England scowls. "Whatever you say, bloody fool." A smile disappears behind his tea cup.

The door starts to open as there is a soft knock. Russia peeks in. "Am I allowed to come back in now?"

America glances at England who looks away. "...Yeah you're no longer banished. I think we're done."

England finishes off his tea. "Well, I will be off then. Thank you for the proper tea. And remember what I said. Please."

America nods and takes the cup. "I will. Really. No worries, okay? I'm the hero, things will be fine."

He hugs England tightly. "Thanks for worrying even if it bugs the shit out of me."

England pats his back. "If I didn't no one would."

America lets go a little sooner than he might have, aware of Russia's presence. "Have a safe trip back."

England nods then looks over at Russia, who watches them with a stiff smile. "You, giganto. I want a word with you. Alone."

America opens his mouth to protest but Russia responds before he can. "Da, if you insist."

"Just outside will be fine then." England walks to the door and Russia opens it for him. America shoots Russia a warning look—which he returns with a careless smile—before he follows England out.

America rubs his forehead. Please let them not fight... It seems more than he can hope for.

England stops a few feet away from the door. Russia tilts his head. "Have a nice chat?"

"Once you had left it was fine."

"Oh, how cold of you to say. What do you want England? You are not going to do anymore grandstanding are you? It is a bit tedious."

England glares at him, cheeks coloring. "That is not my intent, no. Look... I have no idea how you did it, but somehow you've squirmed your way into Alfred's soft spot. I absolutely do not approve and if I could do a thing about it you would be out of here so quickly it would make your head spin. But I can't. So I am going to warn you. If you do anything to hurt him or make him cry there is no threat in the world that describes the wrath I will pour upon you."

Russia's eyes widen slightly and then he giggles. "Oh? I see. You really do care about him don't you?"

"More than you could possibly understand." The two stare at each other, Russia's smile fading into something close to anger.

"...I think as always you underestimate me England."

England lifts his head. "That may be, but he doesn't love you yet Russia. I am not impressed."

Russia's eyes narrow. "I advise you get going now or I will be forced to do something we will all regret."

England scoffs. "And that is why he will never fall in love with you. Goodbye Russia. Don't cause more problems than you already have."

Walking at a brisk pace, England quickly disappears from Russia's sight. After taking a moment to quiet his rage to a manageable level Russia enters the house. America is not in the room. He hears water running in the kitchen and walks towards it. America stands at the sink, back to the door. Russia stares at it, taking swift strides. He reaches out to grab him, to pin him against the counter, to-

America turns and smiles at him. "...Hey, thanks a lot...You know, for leaving. England can be the biggest bitch ever sometimes and your leaving so I could calm him was really helpful. I appreciate it. He didn't say anything too rude I hope. He's insane when it comes to me. Must be a sibling thing."

Russia feels the anger seep out of him as he watches America dry his hands against his pants. "Um... N-no, just a general threat about if I hurt you so and so."

America laughs and pats his arm lightly. "Yeah that sounds like him. Oh Arthur... Don't mind him, really. He just likes to hear himself talk."

America turns back to the sink. "Ugh, he used two tea cups... If you do the dishes I'll order pizza for dinner tonight. Or Chinese if you prefer."

Russia slips his arms around America's waist and kisses his cheek. "I like you very much Alfred."

America's face flushes. "Wh-what? Where did that come from?"

"Moe Serdce."

"God you're embarrassing! I should have invited England to stay for dinner. Then I could have watched the two of you distract yourselves from me by fighting."

Russia nuzzles the back of his neck. "You do not mean that."

"Oh no?"

Russia rests his chin on America's shoulder. "Mm, Chinese. I like Chinese. Though I am sure whatever you order will taste absolutely terrible in comparison to China's home cooking."

"Pft, well I don't doubt that. It probably won't even taste the same. At least, China said it was a mockery of his food or something when I gave him some one time. Whatever, snob."

Russia giggles and straightens up, arms slipping from America's waist. He grabs the American's chin and tilts his face to the side, lips brushing against his. "That man cannot see the contour of my emotions any more than he can see yours."

"What are you talking ab-?"

Russia interrupts the useless question with a kiss.

~.

England waits at the airport for his return flight, checking his watch. He sighs and taps his arm. After a moment he pulls out his phone and dials a number. He closes his eyes, waiting for it to be picked up.

"Moshi moshi, Nippon speaking."

"Hello Japan, this is England."

Japan sounds more alert. "England-san! How are you?"

"I'm well. ...I went to see Alfred."

"Hai? And...?"

England checks his watch again even knowing his plane won't be ready to board for another fifteen minutes. He speaks delicately. "While I understand your concern and am concerned myself I think Alfred will be able to handle it. Unless he asks for our help in the future or it is apparent a catastrophe will occur I do not think we should interfere in his business."

"Ah-" There is a pause and then a click.

"...Hello? Japan? Bloody hell." He puts his cellphone back in his pocket. Something tells him he hadn't lost the connection on accident.

Well, he has done his best. He just hopes America knows what the hell he is getting himself into. Or as the case may be, has already gotten himself into.

* * *

Translations:

Мое сердце, Moe Serdce-my heart

Nippon- Official name of Japan

Historical note:

During the Civil War France and England sided with the Confederacy. I am not sure what the full reasoning behind that was. What I do know is there was a treaty at the time in Europe that benefited from the U.S. being involved in the slave trade so it was in their interest for it to continue... Even though they looked down on it. (Thanks Europe)

Edit: France and England sided with the confederacy because it supplied 70% of the world's cotton, which was used in European textile mills. (info provided by chrono-contract)

Russia on the other hand, sided with the Union. Both the U.S. and Russia were looking for allies at the time, Russia because Europe disliked it and U.S. because it was young and had lost its major benefactor (England). The Russians also held contempt for the slavery in the South as well as contempt for segregation in the North.


	35. Chapter 35

Heya~ Okay, first things first, congrats to demonlifehealer for getting the 1,200th one shot.

Next I'd like to make a few facts clear. First of all I got some questions about Japan calling himself Nippon. Japan is called both Nippon and Nihon. Nippon is sort of the more official name for it. You would see it on the money, stuff like that. That's why I had Japan answer the phone with it as he was doing so as its official representative.

And I got a comment about this, yes, in fact I _do _know that the Civil War wasn't all about slaves. I never tried to imply it was, sorry if it came off that way. I got an anonymous comment that gave some more details about the Civil War and foreign involvement that I'll post at the end in case anyone is interested.

* * *

Russia tilts his head and deepens the kiss. America reaches up uncertainly and grabs hold of his scarf, tugging on it. Russia isn't sure if he's trying to indicate for him to stop or if he is simply holding it. Either way he chooses to ignore it.

Alfred will love him yet, despite what England thinks.

Suddenly America's phone goes off. Russia groans in irritation as America starts to push him away, finally breaking the kiss. He pouts. "Do you really need to answer that?"

America digs through his pocket and looks at the caller ID. "It's my boss, so yeah. And for the record I am not exactly in the mood to just pick up where we left off. I can't get England's disapproving face out of my head. I don't want to imagine that the whole time. Now if you'll-"

Russia gives him some space, still looking put out. America flips the phone out. "Hello hello! How's it going bossaruni?"

He pauses and bursts into laughter, wandering off a ways. Russia crosses his arms and watches him. "E-eh? Oh, that...? You want a copy by tomorrow you say?... N-no! Of course I've been working on it! Ahaha so little faith boss! Actually I'm kind of hurt. I've been slaving over it all day! And you think I forgot all about it... No, no of course I accept your apology... Eh? What do you mean can't I recognize sarcasm?... Oh come on, don't be like that! It'll be to you all ready tomorrow and you're gonna be like 'Wow, I sure doubted America and now I am ashamed because he is amazing and-' ....Yes... yes I understand. O-okay yes. I promise. Really! ... Mmmhm... Gotcha. Bye bye boss!"

America hangs up. "...Fuck. I forgot all about it."

He clutches his hair. "Augh! Shit! How could I forget?" He turns to Russia and points at him accusingly. "I blame you for distracting me!"

Russia blinks. "Me? I can hardly be blamed for your laziness."

America grumbles and stuffs his phone in his pocket. "Stupid work. I didn't use to have to do work. The good ol' days... It seems to get worse and worse. Hell is a bureaucracy."

Russia smiles at him with very little pity. He is hardly dazzled by slovenly behavior. "If you say so Alfred."

America gives him a hard look. "Well _Ivan, _hate to disappoint you but now you're definitely not getting any. I'm going to order the Chinese and after that I'll be working."

"Why should it matter if you put it off until later? I have no doubt that is typical behavior for you."

"Hmph, thanks a lot. Look, do you want me to go see your sister or not? Because I can guarantee if this isn't done by tomorrow I'm not going anywhere."

Russia sighs. "Fine. Once we get back you are all mine."

America flushes. "What the hell? Don't say weird things like that! Only if I feel like it, got it Russki?"

Russia gives him a sunshine smile. "You will."

Glaring at him pointedly, America tugs his cellphone out again and dials a nearby Chinese place that delivers.

While he gets their dinner Russia reflects on how it seems the entire world is plotting against him getting with Alfred. How troublesome.

~.

America and Russia sit on the couch watching t.v., cartons filled with cheap Chinese food in one hand, a fork in the other. America had attempted to use the chopsticks for a while but he kept getting more food on his shirt than in his mouth and had finally given up.

"Hmm this really is terrible," Russia states cheerfully before taking another bite.

"Whatever, can't be worse than some of the crap you eat."

"Oh I do not deny that. Want more General Tso's chicken?"

America looks over and finds a choice piece, stabbing it and happily bringing it to his mouth. "Mm, you know China gave me a huge lecture about how that dish doesn't exist in China or something like that. But then Korea interrupted about how it had originated in his country and distracted him."

Russia giggles. "Hmm well he is very proud of his culture. It is no wonder. It is very rich and lovely."

America glances at Russia's face then looks away. It occurs to him that this is almost a fluke. If Russia had decided that China was the better choice after all he would probably be sitting here alone right now while Russia chased after him instead. The thought doesn't completely seem like a desirable one.

He wonders... does Russia remember their friendlier relationship back when he had been Tsarist Russia? He has never mentioned it as a reason for them to rekindle anything. Not that they had been super close. Still, more so than now. And Russia truly had been...

Then again he had sort of blocked it from his mind, why wouldn't Russia have? He almost asks but can't bring himself to. America can forget with ease but wilts at the thought of being forgotten.

Feeling a mixture of confusion and unexplainable depression America puts the near-empty box he holds aside. "Well, I think I should get to work. Feel free to eat whatever else you want. I'm sure you can find ways to entertain yourself. It's probably best... if you don't come near me when I'm working okay?"

Russia looks up at him. "I understand. I am glad you did not approach me when I worked the other day. For similar reasons I am sure."

America nods slowly. "Mm, well, wish me luck."

"Good luck love dumpling!"

America scowls at the slight smirking twist of Russia's lips and leaves the room.

He slips into his office and closes the door. He leans against it and sighs. He hates working. So much so his concentration goes into immediate daydream mode. It's up to the country side of him to get it done. That's why it is better if Russia stays away. While he wants to fix him he's not sure how that might go down if they were to interact...

America sits in his chair, spins a few times, pulls out an iPod setting it to his power mix, then makes the transition.

With only the occasional distracted pause of whimsy or distraction, America begins to work.

~.

Russia jolts awake and rubs his eyes. His shoulders are stiff. Probably because he has fallen asleep on the couch. What time is it? Soft light flickers across his face from the television and he frowns. Switching it off, he lets his eyes adjust to the sudden darkness before getting up. After a bit of fumbling he finds his way to the kitchen where the clock on the microwave shines like a tiny beacon. Russia has to blink a few times to make out the numbers. It's nearly three a.m.

Is it so late? No wonder his body hurts. He knew he should have gone to bed earlier. He had been waiting for America to call it quits, who must have gone to bed without having the courtesy to let Russia know. What a brat.

Russia heads towards the bedroom, making no effort to be quiet when he goes in. In fact, he throws the light on just to show his annoyance. Blinking a few times he comes to the startling discovery that the bed is empty. Is America still working? Surely not. It has been hours since he started.

He frowns thoughtfully at the empty bed then makes his way towards America's study. There is light peeking through the bottom of the door. Pausing in front of it, he hesitates before knocking. No response. When he tries the doorknob it is unlocked. Not wanting to bother him but concerned, he opens it slowly.

"Alfred?"

He lets the door swing open. Slumped over his desk, using his arms as a pillow, America lies fast asleep. Russia tsks. "Really Alfred..."

Russia walks over to him and carefully removes the ear buds in his ears and gently coaxes a pen from America's fingers. After some maneuvering he manages to pick up America, who immediately slumps against his chest. Russia's eyes slide to the desk and a cold curiosity creeps over him. He fights it and forces himself to leave the room without reading whatever America has been working on.

Placing a small kiss on America's cheek, Russia places him on the bed, smoothing his hair. Making a quick sweep back to turn off the light of the office he returns and finds America has already buried his face into his pillow.

It's nice to see America seems to be getting regular amounts of sleep lately. Russia was starting to wonder if he ever slept properly.

Flicking the lights off he crawls beneath the covers and slides closer to America, putting an arm around him. America mumbles incoherently in his sleep and shifts towards the warmth of his body. They lie in silence, one asleep the other thoughtful. Never has he shared a bed like this with another before. Oh there had been warm bodies in his bed for various reasons in the past, but this... whatever it is, it's a new experience for him. He reaches up and slowly runs his fingers through America's hair. Is there happiness in this? Can the emptiness inside him be taken up by this man?

Clearing his throat gently he whispers, "Ya tebya lublu."

The words feel awkward, forced, unnatural. They are not words his tongue is used to. He tries again in English, to see if it will make a difference. "I love you."

Still something hollow to the words. To say them for the sake of saying them seems to fill them with as much weight and purpose as something as mundane as "The weather is nice today."

Perhaps America must hear them? React? He's not sure. The words certainly don't provoke theatrical emotions within him. Whether that's because he's not doing it right or there simply is nothing to them yet he can't be quite sure. Either way, it is definitely not the time to say it. He wants them to mean something when he finally utters them to America. And he hopes he can hear them from America soon.

For a while Russia contemplates how the words will sound coming from America. Maybe blunt with a tinge of anger. Or awkward and moody. He can't quite imagine them coming out as heartfelt and emotional. In fact it almost makes him giggle. These thoughts dancing dreamily through his mind, Russia falls asleep.

~.

When America wakes up he is horribly incoherent. For a panic stricken moment he has no idea where he is. Hadn't he been in his study working? He must have fallen asleep but where is he now? Sitting up slightly, a twinge of confusion goes through him. Something heavy on his body, what is...? As his eyes adjust and his mind begins to calm down he realizes it is Russia's arm.

Russia... His bed... How had he gotten here? Did he get up and go to bed without remembering? Surely... Russia hadn't brought him to bed? He stares down at him almost accusingly then relaxes. Either way he is in bed and very comfortable now that he knows where he is.

Lying back down on the pillow, America closes his eyes and cuddles against Russia again. If no one knows who cares? The big man really is quite comfy and that's all there is to it. The world's scariest teddy bear. America is asleep seconds later, dreaming about a giant teddy bear terrorizing New York City with sunflowers.

~.

Japan lies on a mat listlessly, hugging a plushie. The one person he thought could be his ally to protect America has proven completely unhelpful. How can he rest easily knowing that fiend Russia is trying to get his demon claws into his friend? America thinks he can handle it but he is young and inside the situation. There is no way he can see this properly.

His cellphone begins to ring and his dark eyes regard it coolly. With a resigned sigh he picks it up and answers. "Moshi moshi."

"Aiya, Japan! Let your ge ge China come to your house for a while!"

A small frown appears on Japan's face and he rolls onto his back. "I am terribly sorry Nii-san, now is not the best time for me."

"Things are not worse for you than me! Russia's younger sister has been stalking me for two days. She keeps insisting I am hiding her beloved big brother. I have no idea where he is right now. I haven't even seen him since the world meeting."

Japan sits up, suddenly brought to sharp attention. "Belarus-san you say?"

"Shi, Belarus. If Russia doesn't get her in control she's going to hurt someone."

Japan is silent for a moment, pressing his lips into a thin line. Then he nods his head solemnly. "China-san, please, tell her to come see me."

Japan usually wouldn't stoop to such low tactics but he must protect America. If he will not listen to reason, it seems an attack must be made against the one causing problems in the first place.

'Forgive me America-san. It is for your best interest.'

China makes a sound of disbelief. "What? Are you insane? Why would you want her to go there?"

"Please tell her, China-san. Tell her... Tell her I know where she can find Russia-san."

~.

America goes through a mental check list for the hundredth time. He always forgets something no matter how often he goes over things. The oh so important papers his boss needed were both faxed and officially in the mail, he had packed a care package bag (triple checked for airport unfriendly items), charged his phone and ipod...

Russia watches him with increasing impatience. "Alfred, we have to go. The cab is waiting and the plane will not wait."

America winks. "A hero is never late when it matters! But yeah, I'm good. Let's get going."

The two rush out of the house, America making the cab driver go back after five minutes because he had forgotten to lock up. America watches the lights flash by through the window feeling apprehensive. It will be fine, it will be totally fine...

Beside him Russia closes his eyes feeling double the apprehension. He wants to call this off but it is all done. It will make him closer to Ukraine again. That is good. That is what he must focus on.

Once they hit the airport it's a rush to get tickets checked and through security in time. America pumps his fist in the air as they call boarding for the flight. "Haha! See that shit? Alfred Jones is never late unless it's to be fashionable!"

Russia giggles and leans over, kissing his cheek. America winces and rubs his cheek. "Hey, hey! Watch out with the PDA!"

"I am terribly sorry, I was just saying goodbye."

America blinks. "...Goodbye?"

"Da, I am not going with you. My flight is in about twenty minutes."

America frowns. "...Wait, why aren't we flying together?"

"Oh, will you be lonely without me?" Russia hugs him.

Pushing him away impatiently, America fixes him with a glare. "I certainly will not! Where are you going?"

Russia taps America's nose lightly. "I have something else I must do. I will be arriving at my sister's house later. Lithuania will be meeting you at the airport. I have worked it out."

"Well you could have told me all this before hand! Might have been nice to know."

"I am sorry, but you are going to miss your flight darling. I will see you later." Russia waves and starts to walk off in the other direction.

America stands in place indecisively then finally turns on his heel with a scowl. "...Damn Russian!"

He turns, flinging his bag over his shoulder and heading towards boarding. Whatever business he has it better not be something that will be bad for him. At least Lithuania will be there to greet him. The thought cheers him. He hasn't seen him in forever!

America takes his seat, slips on the headphones, decides not to let Russia worry him for the moment, and tries to get some sleep. It is a long flight.

~.

America blearily searches the crowd. His neck is killing him. Note to self, never sleep on an airplane again. Not to mention he needs coffee badly.

"America! Over here!"

America looks around and catches sight of Lithuania waving to him. He smiles sleepily and waves back, hurrying over. The hug he gives Lithuania can only be described as crushing. "Hey Toris, how are you?"

Lithuania winces slightly. "Ah, well. Thank you! And yourself?"

America puts him down. "Not too shabby. Been better. Things have been...complicated as of late. Very, very complicated..."

"I am sorry to hear that." Lithuania frowns sympathetically and America completely loves him. Finally someone who will give him pity without being a total nuisance.

He slips an arm around the other's shoulders. "Oh I'm pulling through alright... So you came to pick me up?"

Lithuania nods. "Yes! Miss Ukraine is very anxious for your arrival. She's been preparing lunch. Your flight was a bit late. I hope it doesn't ruin anything..."

America grimaces. "Yeah, there were some delays. God I hate time zones though. Forgive my jet lag but my stomach does not agree that it is lunch time. Ugh..."

"O-oh well I'm sure she won't be offended... um...."

America waves his hand. "No worries. So how is life? And what in god's name happened to your wrist?"

Lithuania laughs sheepishly. "Ah.... Belarus, sadly."

"Oof. That girl is a piece of work. She gave me this." He flashes Lithuania a glimpse of his palm. "Not that she meant to. I'm sure she would have preferred if the knife went somewhere like, I don't know, my jugular."

Lithuania shakes his head. "Oh no! Miss Belarus is... she's a little rough but I think she is a very sweet girl deep down. I don't think she would ever do anything like that!"

"...Whatever you say." He thinks Lithuania is dead wrong but maybe he'll keep that to himself.

"Oh, so how is Tony doing? It's been so long since I've seen him."

"Tony? Pretty good. He's staying at the main house right now. Probably for the best what with Ivan being around all the time lately. Apparently him and his friends are working on something and needed more privacy. I told him I don't mind so long as he doesn't try to destroy or conquer the world! He knows what will happen if he does." America laughs loudly and Lithuania awkwardly follows his example.

"I-I see..." They get into a car, discussing current events and doing general catch up. Russia's relationship with America seems to be an unspoken taboo subject. Or at least, America doesn't bring it up and Lithuania can't quite bring himself to.

Finally they pull up in front of Ukraine's house. America gets out of the car, popping his back. He leans on the door for a moment, staring at the house thoughtfully.

Lithuania slams his door, breaking America's concentration. "Ready?"

America pauses then nods. "Ready."

* * *

Translations:

ya tebya lublu – I love you

Ge Ge – Older brother

Shi - Yes

**AN: **There you go, now you know what Tony has been up to! (And that is the closest it will be to him being in the story, sorry)

Extra history note:

England and France did not side with anyone, instead declaring the Confederacy as belligerents and their neutrality. THat was as close as they came to recognizing them. They wouldn't even help the Confederacy by declaring the Union's naval blockade (which blocked those very cotton shipments from being traded with them) illegal under international law, which would have allowed England to send in its Navy and force the Union to allow them to trade.

The United States promised that recognizing the Confederacy would be considered an act of war, and they would declare war on them. Such a declaration would lead to a World War, which neither England nor France could manage at the time. England had many issues at home, including issues with Ireland and Scotland demanding more rights. Also, more important to England than cotton was food. 40% of England's food imports came from the Union, which would be cut off in war, leading to a famine/starvation. Additionally, they only had a few thousand troops in British North America (now Canada), which would quickly fall to American control in a war. BNA was profiting greatly from the Union in the war, with a massive increase in trade, and more than 30,000 BNA citizens had joined the Union Army. France, under Napoleon III was expanding its empire (even setting up a puppet government in Mexico while America's back was turned - then pulled out in 1867 between Mexican rebellions, US diplomacy, and US troops gathering at the Texas border) and would be spread too thin to fight a war without England's support.

Russia, on the other hand, moved their boats to the harbors of San Francisco and New York so they weren't stuck in the frozen waters should they go to war with England and France. If war was declared, their Navy would be sitting ducks should England's superior Navy attack. From New York, however, there was a strong vantage point for them. However, when Napoleon III called a conference with England and Russia, suggesting they support the Confederacy, England said to wait it out for the time being (because they really couldn't afford to go against the Union) and Russia essentially laughed in his face, saying they would not turn on their dear ally.


	36. Chapter 36

Hellu~ Sorry it has been a while. I hope you are happy, today I wrote this instead of packing my kitchen like I should have been doing -laughs- xBeyondxBirthdayx, I am halfway done with your oneshot and it will be out in the near future, I swear! Probably after finals this week.

The Hetalia movie plot has been released! I am excited~ It sounds silly.

* * *

Halfway up the walkway the door suddenly bursts open and Ukraine is standing at the door, hands clasped tightly against her well endowed bosom. "Oh you're here! I was starting to become so worried!"

She starts to jog over and America can't help but stare, mesmerized. Damn he always forgets just how big her-

Ukraine suddenly grabs his hand, pressing it warmly between her own. "Th-thank you so much for coming! I really hate to intrude on you and, um, I am so very grateful! Really. I...I really am...this isn't a big burden on you is it?"

America melts a little at the look of growing concern on her face. He has always been a sucker for a maiden in distress. "No, no, not at all! I always love seeing you and your bre- er, b-bright smiling face!"

The words seem to reassure her and she brightens. "I'm so relieved to hear you say that. Oh, but how rude of me! Lunch is ready, won't you please come inside?"

America smiles cheerfully. "Of course, I never say no to food!"

Ukraine smiles back and gestures for him to go inside. "Ah, and thank you for going to pick him up for me Lithuania. It is lovely to see you again after so long."

Lithuania shakes his head. "It's nothing. Really."

The three go inside, Ukraine fussing at this and that as they make their way into a small dining room. Her house is rather small but cozy. Definitely in much better condition than it was in the past. She has Lithuania and America sit, trying to serve them cabbage rolls and potato dumplings. Little cries of embarrassment and panic escape her as she continuously knocks things over with her chest.

Lithuania watches her nervously. "I-I can serve Miss Ukraine..."

Flustered, she shakes her head. "N-no I'm fine!"

America watches in amusement as they both awkwardly try to straighten and serve things, making the mess that much worse. It occurs to him it's a shame Lithuania doesn't like Ukraine instead of Belarus. They would be a ridiculously cute (and hilarious) couple. Plus she would never break his wrist on purpose. Though it still might happen in a fit of clumsiness.

Finally everything is settled and Ukraine smiles nervously at America. "S-so you and my brother! I am so surprised, I must admit. Um, congratulations! How did the two of you end up in a relationship?"

America swallows hard. He sure as hell isn't going to tell a lie but the truth is out of the question. "Er...it was very sudden. Very, very sudden. Trust me, I'm just as shocked as you."

Ukraine plays with her food nervously. "Ah...b-but the two of you came together on your own? This... well you can tell me, I'm his sister after all and Lithuania is his...friend. This isn't...political is it?"

America quickly shakes his head emphatically. "Oh hell no. That is definitely the last thing it is, I swear. No politics period."

At least he can be honest about that. And he definitely doesn't miss the unbelievably relieved expression on Ukraine's face and to a lesser degree on Lithuania's. Were people still worrying about that after all? Such a pain...

"I-I'm glad to hear that! I mean, er, well it's nice to see him in a relationship for the sake of it. I've never known him to... well usually there is a reason behind it. Vanya has such a hard time with relationships."

America pauses before taking a bite of a potato dumpling. "Vanya?"

Ukraine beams softly. "Ah, that's a little nickname I have for him based off of his name. Isn't it cute?"

America grins. "Yep, lil' Vanya." He starts to laugh. Ukraine giggles along with him, Lithuania smiling softly. He doesn't quite dare laugh at anything related to Russia, even now.

"Ah, that reminds me, do either of you have good dirt on Ivan? I don't know, anything really. Just thought I'd ask."

Ukraine and Lithuania suddenly look uncomfortable, glancing at each other a moment before looking away. Lithuania finally speaks hesitantly. "H-he once told me he would like to be somewhere warm with sunflowers."

"Hmm I figured and he's sort of told me as much. You... don't have anything or... you don't want to talk about it?"

Ukraine tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "Well... When I think of my brother I... usually think of unhappy things. He had a very hard time as a child and... well, even as he got older. Ivan is a man who is guarded because he has gone through much hardship. I...I'm sorry. I'm sure there are things if I had a little time to think about it..."

She chews her bottom lip, trying to come up with something. America wishes he hadn't asked. He hadn't meant to upset anyone. So Russia has been frozen just as much from history as the ice in his lands.

Suddenly Ukraine speaks. "W-well I mean... he really just was the most darling looking child. Really, I doubt any of us were as cute as him. And he was very good to Belarus and I... The three of us were so close back then."

She starts to tear up and America feels like a total asshole. "Ah, s-sorry! Er, please forget I asked. Um, uh, y-you know he still really cares about you. He...He is really happy at the thought of being able to spend time with you again."

Ukraine wipes at her eyes. "R-really? I'm glad to hear that. I do love him, things have just gotten so complicated over time."

"I totally know how that goes. Canada and I usually get along pretty well but... Well, I mean he burned down my White House once. I'm sure Toris has had problems with Latvia and Estonia right? Yeah, rough patches are bound to happen."

Ukraine smiles at him, a smile of appreciation with an underlying layer of 'I know you're trying but you really don't understand.' It makes her seem more mature in that moment and America is once again reminded how much younger he is than everyone else.

She suddenly looks around. "Oh! I didn't even think of it! I haven't made any tea or anything... But you prefer coffee, don't you America?"

"Yep, tea gives me flashbacks of being a colony. Ech. Try not to touch the stuff whenever possible."

She nods. "Ah, Lithuania, I do hate to be a bother but I was working early and my back is bothering me. Would you...?"

Lithuania, who has been feeling a bit uncomfortable with the current conversation is quick to take the request. "Of course! I know exactly how America likes it. I'll be right back."

Ukraine nibbles on a cabbage roll as Lithuania leaves the room. After giving it a moment she turns to America, face filled with apprehension. In a quiet voice she begins speaking rapidly. "America, I am terribly sorry but I think my brother might have sent Lithuania to monitor our interaction together. Maybe I'm just being paranoid but... But that doesn't matter. Please America, I really don't mind your being with my brother but... I have to know. Even if this isn't political, what you have with him... Are you still on my side?"

America blinks. "Huh?"

She throws a glance at the door and turns back. "I have to know. I'm more than aware that Ivan doesn't approve of my trying to join NATO and... and honestly the other countries don't take me seriously. You are my only real ally on this. If he convinces you otherwise... I love him but it is my decision, even if he doesn't want to let go. But I need someone to help me. I know I'm a bit unorganized and I still have work to do but... but you are the only one who seems to believe in me and I...I don't want to lose your support. Please tell me you aren't on Ivan's side now? Please tell me I can still count on your support?"

Tears well up in her large blue eyes as she gives him a searching look. Is that what this meeting is about? He takes her hand firmly. "Hey, it's okay. Don't cry, alright Ukraine? Of course I'm on your side. I completely believe you should have the freedom to do what you want to do. I will continue to support you on your decision to join NATO no matter what. Ivan couldn't change my mind on that if he tried to kill me. So no worries. I am with you. Please... be there for Ivan too. I think he could really use a steady family bond and no offense but your sister has her own problems."

Ukraine runs a hand over her eyes and gives him a small smile. "...Promise?"

America gives her his famous, twinkling smile. "Of course I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die."

"Thank you. So much... And I will do my best as Vanya's big sister." She puts her arms around America, pulling him to her chest. "Oh thank you, thank you! I feel so much better now!"

America finds himself buried in her breasts. "Mmph?"

Lithuania walks back into the room. "Miss Ukraine, where is your-"

He freezes and Ukraine abruptly releases America, who takes in a gulp of air. "Ah, ah! H-he was choking!"

Lithuania continues to stare as America adjusts his glasses, face flushed.

Ukraine looks between them nervously. "Please don't tell Ivan?"

Lithuania clears his throat. "Tell Russia what?"

Ukraine suddenly stands. "I-I'll help you with that coffee now."

Blushing, she leaves the room, turning to give America a small smile. He returns it before she slips through the door. He turns back to his potato dumpling.

Goodness... Ukraine really does have bountiful lands.

~.

Prussia lies on the grass, swinging his legs back and forth, head rested on his folded arms. Gilbird flits around in front of him. "I swear, you should have seen West's face this morning when he saw I had crawled into bed with him and Italy. It was hilarious! And Italy just asked when breakfast was. Damn he's cute. West didn't have to throw me out of the house though. Idiot is just embarrassed because this is his first relationship. How can I not mess with that?"

He laughs, completely impressed with himself. Gilbird begins to cheep wildly and Prussia raises an eyebrow. "Hm? Something wrong?"

A shadow suddenly falls over him and Prussia glances up over his shoulder. He gasps as he sees Russia reaching for him. Before he can get away Russia grabs a hold of the back of his collar and lifts him up.

Prussia kicks at him to no avail. "What are you doing here you bastard? Let go of me!"

Russia smiles pleasantly. "Prussia, do you remember my favorite game that we used to play?"

Swallowing hard Prussia mutters, "...The 'be quiet or I'll smack you with my pipe' game?"

"That is right! You remember. We are about to play it again if you do not stop talking."

Prussia doesn't see Russia's pipe but that doesn't mean he won't be able to magically produce it. He fixes him in a glare. "What do you want? I'm not interested in you wasting my time with threats. This isn't like back then. Don't think you can just smack me around as you please!"

Russia tilts his head. "Oh no, I am not here to do that. I actually promised I would not hurt you. Though I will still smack you if I have to. I am here because you left a very ugly mark on the beautiful neck of my Alfred and that displeases me very much. I want you to stay away from him."

"Hmph, he's the one who came to see me. I was within my rights. Don't let such a fine piece of ass walk around on his own if you don't want anyone trying to take advantage of him. And if you can't hurt me why should I?"

Russia gives him a very intimidating smile. "I do not need to physically hurt you to make you stop. If you do refuse I will curse you."

Prussia's eyes widen. "C-curse me? Are you... are you freaking kidding me? ...What kind of curse?"

Russia leans in and whispers into his ear. Prussia starts to squirm in his grasp. "No way, anything but that! Fuck, I won't touch him, I swear! Gott, it was just some fun, no reason to be hasty."

Russia drops him unceremoniously. "I was so hoping you would say that! Well that is all. I shall be on my way now. ...Do not forget, da?"

Prussia rubs his back, grimacing. "Whatever Blödes Arschloch."

"No need for name calling. Have a nice day and if you see Italy tell him I said hello." He smirks at Prussia and starts to walk away.

Prussia considers chasing after him but honestly Russia would probably kick his ass, promise or not. Gilbird jumps onto his knee and he pats his head. "Some backup you were."

Gilbird cheeps at him. "That's probably true... Damn... I am so doing something to piss him off next chance I get."

Gilbird cheeps disapprovingly. "I know, but what fun would it be if I learned my lesson? Definitely have to be careful about it though." He shields his vital regions and winces. "What a terrifying curse, can't take any chances."

Gilbird seriously wonders about his master but who is he, a simple chick, to judge?

~.

"Thank you for the coffee, it is exactly what I needed. I hate traveling. No offense or anything. It just messes with me."

America places his cup down on the table feeling quite satisfied. Things had not been nearly so bad as either he or Russia were worried about. Though Russia probably still wouldn't be too happy about what Ukraine wanted to talk to him about so maybe he would keep that on the down low. He drums on his legs restlessly. "Hey, the weather is pretty good here. How about we go outside?"

Ukraine nods. "If you'd like! How about you two go on ahead, I just want to clear the table."

Lithuania opens his mouth to offer assistance but America interrupts. "Sounds like a great idea! Come on Toris, let's go."

America stands and puts an arm around Lithuania. Once they are outside he pats Lithuania's arm. "...Did Ivan send you here to be his eyes and ears?"

Lithuania turns bright red and America knows the truth before he starts weakly denying it. "N-no it's... um, I just... it has been a while since I saw either you or Ukraine and... and..."

America shakes his head. "No, don't worry about it. I'm really not that surprised. Honestly it's the most in-character thing he's done these last few days. Don't worry about it, I'm not angry. ...What are you going to tell him?"

Lithuania lowers his head, feeling horribly guilty about the whole thing. "I... I'm sorry. Um... Well there isn't much to tell. We had lunch, discussed safe topics... And I really don't think he has to know about that hug. She... was being friendly, that's all."

America coughs. "Right... good. Okay then. It's not a big deal but... I know his sisters are sort of a delicate topic under certain circumstances. I don't want him getting all pissed off over nothing."

Lithuania nods silently. Not that he would ever say it as it might come off as offensive, but it's interesting to see America taking Russia's feelings into consideration. To actually care enough about him to be worried on how he might react. It's refreshing, seeing the two of them be so much more courteous and close with one another. It is far more desirable than the violent dislike they once shared.

America suddenly stops. "Hey, check out this tree. The cherries at the top look really good! We should get some. Think Ukraine would mind?"

Lithuania glances back towards the house. "I...I don't think so but-"

"Should I kick it? That might get them down."

Sighing softly at what is undeniably an 'America' response to the problem, Lithuania shakes his head. "I don't think that's a good idea. Remember back when I lived with you? You did that once and nearly knocked the whole tree down. It was bad."

America eyes the tree then Lithuania. "Okay, okay, fair enough. I have a different idea..."

~.

Russia steps out of the car and pays the driver. For a moment he simply stares at his sister's house. It has been a while since he has been here under what he hopes are pleasant circumstances. As he starts towards the door he hears a small cry. "Ah, please be careful!"

That was his sister's voice... Russia hurries around the side of the house and towards the back. He stops and for a moment simply watches. America has Lithuania on his shoulders, who is desperately straining to reach cherries that fall tragically out of his reach. Ukraine stands by with a basket in her arms looking worried.

America laughs. "Come on, just a bit more right? Reach Toris! Maybe if I threw you-"

Lithuania looks down at him. "Don't you dare!"

"I'm serious, you should try standing on my shoulders, I swear I won't let you fall!"

"A-absolutely not!"

Ukraine fidgets. "I-I do have a ladder, really."

"Nah, nah we're fine! Damn too bad your arms aren't longer."

Russia can only watch, frozen to the spot. They seem to be getting along rather nicely. Would his presence be an unwelcome thing? Maybe they would prefer his not being there at all...

America looks over his way for a moment then does a double take. "Ivan! Great timing! Here, get over here!"

As America lowers Lithuania back down Russia pauses then walks over, eyes stuck to the ground. He doesn't want to see if they are disappointed that he has arrived.

"H...hello."

America tugs at his sleeve. "Yeah, yeah, hello to you too. Crouch down, I'm going to get on your shoulders."

Russia blinks and looks up at him. "Huh?"

"Just do it! Come on." Russia complies, helping America position himself. "Give me your arm before you stand and hold onto me."

Russia reaches up and grabs America's arm right below the elbow and America takes a firm hold of him. "Now arise! Up, up, the cherries won't wait forever!"

In one swift motion Russia stands, wavering slightly. Ukraine quickly puts a steadying hand on his back. "Oh, be careful dear!"

Russia finally turns to look at her and after a second she smiles warmly at him. His anxiety melts and he smiles back. "Da."

Once Russia has steadied himself America looks around. "Damn it's like I'm huge! This is awesome! I...I'm not too heavy am I?"

The delicate self-consciousness in the question is both surprising and oddly adorable. "Nyet, not in the least."

Giving Russia's arm a slight squeeze he reaches up and starts picking cherries, tossing them down to Lithuania who puts them in Ukraine's basket. Ukraine questions Russia about his trip up and if it went smoothly. Lithuania sums up the lunch without making it seem too obvious he is reporting to Russia. America praises Ukraine's cooking.

And Russia feels perfectly included into everything. There is no tension, the mood is light and friendly. Russia strokes America's leg with his free hand, eliciting a harrumph of indignity and a light kick to the chest. Giggling softly, Russia tries to absorb this moment. This is what he wants. In the past he has never been sure how to go about finding this with people but America makes it possible. Once more he is reassured that he has made the right choice. America is special, can make these things possible, and Russia needs him.

* * *

Translations:

Blödes Arschloch – stupid asshole

**AN: **The U.S. is the only country that shows strong support for Ukraine joining NATO but it'll probably be a long time... (Totally made the mistake of saying the UN before, I meant NATO! Thanks to anon who pointed this out, how embarrassing!) And Gilbird fanservice~ haha


	37. Chapter 37

Hey~ Sorry it has been a while! I've been working on a pet project of sorts and it has distracted me. On the bright side this update is the longest I've done in a long time to make up for it. I'm really happy everyone thought the last chapter was cute~

Congrats to Whohasyourtaco for getting the 1,300th review! Um... I think that's it.

* * *

Once Ukraine's basket is brimming over with cherries America has Russia set him back on solid ground. He reaches up to pat Ivan on the head. "Awesome! Thanks for being so huge and all."

Russia rubs the back of his neck, uncertain how to take the words and action. "Um, you are welcome."

America takes the basket from Ukraine. "Hey, Toris and I will go rinse these off so we can all enjoy them. We'll be back soon."

Lithuania quickly grasps the situation and nods. "Yes, we will be right back."

They walk off and Russia watches them before turning to his sister. "...Katyusha, I hope you are well."

Ukraine takes one of Russia's hands in hers and squeezes it, eyes tearing up. "I am. ...Oh my Vanya, my dear Vanya."

She gives him a watery smile. "Everything is all taken care of now that America has come. Now... now you can visit more often so long as it's just personal. I can make you dinner sometime or, um, maybe we can go somewhere. Or, mm-"

Russia puts a hand on her head and leans in, kissing her cheek softly. "That sounds wonderful. Thank you moja dorogaja sestra."

They beam happily at each other for a moment. Ukraine reaches up and wipes her eyes. "O-oh, what about Natalya? Have you made up with her yet? It would be nice if all three of us could spend some time together, don't you think?"

"Uh... N-nyet I have not... Well we are still having some issues. B-but once they get worked out that would be nice. W-when that happens that is..." He clears his throat uncomfortably.

Ukraine sighs. "You know how much she loves you, dear. I know that you are probably pretty wrapped up with your new relationship right now but please be nice to her. I am sure she feels lonely."

Russia has a hard time meeting her gaze. "...Da. I will try."

"And Ivan? I... I am really happy for you." Ukraine gives him a sweet, sincere smile. "It's so nice that you are in a healthy relationship and I think it says a lot that it's with someone you have been on bad terms with for so long."

"Thank you Katyusha. I am doing my best. It really has been quite a lot more work than I thought it would be."

Ukraine giggles. "Da, well relationships can be difficult but they're worth it in the end. And the two of you are so adorable together."

Adorable? "Do you... really think so?"

She nods enthusiastically. "Oh yes! And I can tell how much you like each other. It looks like you have very good chemistry. It was odd when I first heard about it but now I can see it completely."

Russia blinks in surprise. "You can?"

"Of course!" She says it as if he's ridiculous for asking.

Lithuania has stated his approval of the relationship and Italy has eagerly given him romantic advice but this is perhaps the first time someone has been so complimentary of the two of them. Most people have been less than thrilled about it, making some kind of effort to get between them. So... it is nice to hear such positive things. It makes him a little flustered. He wonders if the two of them really look good together.

"You guys want some cherries?"

The two look up and America waves to them. Lithuania holds the freshly cleaned cherries. Ukraine and Russia smile at each other one more time and head towards them. The four find a grassy spot and sit down, eating cherries to their heart's content. The atmosphere remains light and all four of them are privately pleased with how smooth this is going.

Ukraine sits back, tilting her face up to the sun. "Ah, those were delicious. And things always taste so much sweeter with good company. Oh, would anyone like anything to drink? I can get juice or water or... um..."

She starts to stand and Lithuania quickly gets to his feet. "Ah, allow me Miss Ukraine! I don't mind."

Ukraine shakes her head, flustered. "N-no, that's really alright! I can get them. You just stay here!"

America leans back, spitting a cherry pit off to the side of him. "Maybe you should both go. It will be easier to carry the drinks that way. And do you have Coke or something?"

Russia shakes his head slightly at America's request and starts to get up. "Allow me to go instead. I can help you Katyusha."

Ukraine looks like she might have a heart attack. "N-nyet, it's fine, I can get it! A-ah and I don't have Coke, I'm so sorry!"

America laughs and tugs at Russia's sleeve. "Let the two of them go, you're going to give your sister a heart attack. And juice is fine."

This has a calming effect on Ukraine. "R-right. Okay, what do you want Ivan?"

Russia pauses uncertainly then sits back. "Water is fine."

"A-alright. Come on then Lithuania." He nods and follows Ukraine back to the house.

America watches them and smiles. "Your sister is so adorable, seriously! I wish I had one. Well I guess Mattie is sort of like that. Ah, man I know Lithuania is all caught up on Belarus for some ungodly reason but he would seriously be great with Ukraine. They could be all domestic together. I mean how hilarious is their politeness war? Cracks me up! I bet they would host great parties!"

Russia chews thoughtfully on a cherry. "I do not know if I approve of that union. And you only think Ukraine is cute in a sisterly way, da?"

America takes a look at the borderline threatening expression on Russia's face and he starts laughing again. "Aw, what's the matter? Is lil' Vanya jealous?"

Russia gives America a stunned look. America's eyebrows raise and he waves a hand. "You alright? I say something? Earth to Ivan, anyone home?"

"...What did you call me?"

America suddenly gets an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. Should he not have used Ukraine's nickname for Russia? Maybe it's special or something. Sort of like how he wouldn't like it if Russia called him Al. That would just be weird. "Uh...V-Vanya?"

Russia's hands shoot out and grab America's shoulders. America cries out in surprise, expecting Russia to pummel him or something. Instead he finds himself crushed to Russia's chest. "That is perfect Alfred! I cannot believe I did not think of you calling me that before. Please, can you use that nickname, even if it is only sometimes? I would like that very much. Ah, but I still have not thought of a nickname for you... Q-quickly, what are ones I have tried? Are there any you prefer?"

"H-hey, calm down there big guy. I can call ya Vanya sometimes, no problem. I think it's cute. But that doesn't mean you have to pick a nickname for me this second. You aren't naming a stray cat or something. Seriously..." He can't believe how excited Russia is over something silly like a nickname. Then again, maybe it isn't silly to him.

Russia looks like he might burst from happiness. It's kind of creepy actually. "Alright. I will think about it though. I promise I will find one for you eventually. ...Just one more time?"

America feels his face growing hot under Russia's expectant stare. "Vanya."

Giggling, Russia releases America after planting a small kiss on the top of his head. America adjusts his clothes and looks at everything but Russia as a pause of silence passes between them. Russia has started making a mental list of nicknames for America, trying to decide which one he likes best and suits his little American.

The pause of silence is uncomfortable for America, and if there is anything he hates it is feeling awkward. He starts playing restlessly with the stem of a cherry and gets an idea. "Yo, check this out!"

Russia turns to watch America as he sticks the stem in his mouth. He tilts his head. What is America up to now? He seems intent on doing something. Surely he isn't eating the stem? After a few moments America sticks his tongue out and picks it up. It is tied into a knot. "Impressive, yeah?"

Giving the stem a perplexed look, Russia looks up at America as if he has missed something. Finally he reaches into the basket and breaks off a stem for himself, tying it into a knot. Then he holds it up for America to see. "I did it too. And I used my hands, saving time and effort. Tying a knot with your tongue seems unnecessarily nonsensical and time consuming. Why do Americans always have to do everything in the most roundabout way possible Alfred darling?"

America scowls at him. "Jerk! Sometimes it's not about doing things in the most productive way. Not that a commie bastard like you would know that. Being able to tie a cherry stem with your tongue means you're a good kisser, duh. It's supposed to be sexy!"

"...Does that mean you are trying to be sexy for me Alfred?" Russia is suddenly smiling at him in a way America does not like at all.

Sputtering at the accusation, he finds himself incapable of giving a coherent answer. "What! N-no! I mean... No! I was just... just..."

Russia crawls closer to America until they are all but chest to chest, lips practically brushing. "Well, if you are such a great kisser perhaps you should show me your superior methods, da?"

"C-come on, we're at your sister's house! This is hardly... hardly the place to- to..." Bright red at this point, America's eyes begin to slide closed as Russia's lips press lightly against his.

A throat is cleared very close by and both of them look up. Lithuania is glancing away, holding two drinks. Ukraine is also looking away behind him, blushing and fidgeting. Russia quickly backs up and America swallows hard, ridiculously embarrassed.

"I told you," he hisses from the side of his mouth before turning to look up at Ukraine and Lithuania, laughing loudly. "So, where is that juice?"

Looking a bit embarrassed himself, Lithuania hands him a glass. "H-here you are. S-sorry if we interrupted..."

Ukraine peeks out shyly from behind Lithuania and holds a glass out for Russia. "U-um, and h-here is your water."

Russia takes it wordlessly and an incredibly awkward silence descends upon the group. After a few painful minutes of silence and uncomfortable shuffling Ukraine speaks. "S-so when do you have to be going?"

Everyone is grateful for the safe topic. Russia answers. "Let me think... we should probably be going in an hour, an hour and a half at the latest."

"Oh I see... I suppose that is too soon to be having dinner, then. What a shame. But of course I don't want to keep you. I have already imposed so much on all of you!"

America waves a hand. "I told you it isn't a problem. Don't you worry Ukraine."

She gives him a small smile. "Shall we go inside now?"

As the party moves into the house Russia looks curiously from America to his sister. Once they are inside Russia puts a hand lightly on America's shoulder. "Before you get comfortable... Do you mind if we talk in private for a moment?"

America stares at him blankly. "Uh... okay."

So long as it's not just for a continuation of what had been interrupted earlier, he thinks dryly. Russia gives his sister an apologetic look. "You do not mind do you? May we borrow a room?"

The request makes her slightly nervous. "O-of course... Um, if you go down that hallway you may choose any room on the left side."

"Thank you." Russia takes America's hand and pulls him down the hall. America frowns, allowing himself to be tugged along. What has gotten into him? Picking the very last room of the hall, Russia has America enter then closes the door behind them. It has the generic coziness of a guest room.

America sits on the edge of the bed. "Something the matter?"

Russia studies him. "...What did my sister want?"

America frowns at him. "She just wanted to double check that there's not some kind of political undertone to our relationship."

Is Russia's reassurance not good enough? Or is he just covering? "Are you sure that is all?"

The suspicious tone in Russia's voice makes America feel defensive even knowing he is omitting part of the truth. "I'm pretty sure. Besides, Lithuania was there the whole time and you sent him to spy on us right?"

The words are out before America can stop them. He inwardly cringes as Russia's expression darkens. "...Did he tell you that?"

The potential threat to Lithuania continues to make him respond defensively. "As if he needed to. I figured that one out all on my own. It's not like I'm not used to you spying on me all the god damned time. What's the matter, don't trust me? Think I'm in cahoots with your sister? That we're plotting something against you? What a lot of bullshit."

Damn it, why can't he shut up? Just shut up already!

Russia's eyes narrow. "Your spies were not unknown to me either America. And I do not have a right to be suspicious? I just want to know what my sister is thinking. Why she is doing what she is doing. Do I not have that right as her brother?"

"Quite frankly no. Just because you're her sibling doesn't mean you have a right to pry into every aspect of her life. You're paranoid and pushy when it comes to your sisters."

Russia smiles coldly. "Oh America, you do love being the knight in shining armor, da? The gleaming hero. Is that why you always stick your nose where it does not belong?"

America stands, lifting his chin defiantly. "Everything I do is for the good of other's whether they realize it or not. But that is hardly something I could expect you to understand Russia."

Russia grabs his collar. "Da? You are a false prince, selfish and egotistical. You dream in your tower and only come down when it is convenient for you. Meanwhile you drive others around you insane with your self-centered superiority complex. Or do you deny your true nature?"

America's eyes widen and he smacks Russia's hand away. "How dare you? How dare you say that to me? Acting like you know anything about me!"

He turns away from Russia, truly wounded by the words. Of course, what is he thinking? Up till now he has been letting himself get swept away. He realizes that they had both gotten caught up in the moment and been momentarily lost to the bitterness of their grudges as countries. Still, he can't forget that while Ivan is presenting a sweet facade the country side is honest in its contempt for him.

Regaining his temper, Russia immediately regrets the words that have been exchanged. "Alfred...I am-"

America brushes past him towards the door. "Ukraine is honestly happy about getting to see you. Stop being such an asshole about it."

He disappears through the door and Russia stands frozen for a moment. He has messed up and he doesn't know what to do to fix it. He should not have lost control like that. Irritated at himself, Russia makes his way back down the hall.

Lithuania immediately knows something has happened. America does not say a word nor does he show it with his face, but he knows. Living with America for ten years, he had come to know how to read his moods well. When America is upset but still in control of it he holds his body a certain way. There is a stiffness to it, a rigid straightness to his posture that doesn't usually exist. Ukraine does not know these things but she is already expecting disaster to strike. She knows this whole thing has been a risk from the beginning.

When Russia enters the room there is an immediate tenseness and Ukraine's heart flutters nervously. "...Is everything alright?"

Russia looks at his sister, can see the underlying fear of something. And of course it is probably directed at him. He can't find his words. Why had he asked America about it? He should have just resisted the urge.

America watches him out of the corner of his eye, taking note of his hesitancy. Idiot. While he still wants to punch Russia in the face, Ukraine is obviously losing her cool. She must be worried that he had asked America about what they had discussed. Rightly so, but America can't let her know that. If he wants to succeed in his plan, Ukraine is an important key player. Russia has to have this family link with his not crazy as hell sister.

So with an ease he has learned over the centuries, America slips on his 'bullshit smile' as he thinks of it. "Well, seems there is a slight problem with one of our connections that might delay us. If there is it's not that big of a deal. Ivan is just worried because he knows I have a meeting coming up, but even if we're a little late it won't affect my schedule. This brother of yours, he's so concerned about all these cute things, it's insane. You would never know looking at him." He laughs lightly and even leans up to kiss Russia on the cheek.

Ukraine's apprehension melts. "O-oh I see. Well I hope everything goes alright. I hate flying, it is always so uncertain."

Lithuania on the other hand is not fooled. He knows that smile and, mixed with America's body language, it means he is far from his usual good cheer... But he dares not say anything or let on what he knows. This is a skill he perfected while living in Russia's house.

As for Russia, he is completely taken aback. America has saved the situation as cool as ice. For a moment he wonders if America has already forgotten the grudge but when he touches his arm the American quickly shrugs it off and he does not look at him once.

He does not understand... America has gone out of his way to lie and make everything alright. He easily could have gotten back at him for what he said by letting things unravel with Ukraine. Honestly Russia had momentarily thought America would respond with that petty-minded cruelty. And perhaps it speaks volumes that despite how much he has come to believe he has made progress with Alfred, he had in all honesty expected it of him. It gives him something to think about. It also makes him more remorseful for the cruel words.

They all sit and America pulls off a pretty good banter with Ukraine, distracting her from Russia's tenseness and Lithuania's watchful gaze on the situation searching for smoke. A bit earlier than they really have to go he finally sits up. "You know, I hate to make us take off like this but I just don't trust airports. It never fails if you don't arrive super early something will go wrong. Traffic, security will hold you, something like that. It was so kind of you to have me. I had a great time Kat. Can I call her Kat?"

He turns to Russia who gives him a look like a deer caught in the headlight. Finally he nods, not trusting his voice. America beams back at her. "Right, it was awesome Kat. Thanks for everything!"

Ukraine smiles and shakes her head. "No, thank you for coming out here. I know you said it wasn't a bother but... it really means a lot to me and my boss and... er, well thank you."

America gives her hand a firm shake and a look that is meant to say 'I am on your side'. Ukraine turns to Russia and takes both his hands, squeezing lightly. "Thank you for coming as well Vanya, it was so nice to see you!"

Russia looks down at Ukraine for a moment then pulls her into a tight embrace. He misses her so much and no matter what America says she is _his _sister. He doubts that America would be quite so different than him were it Canada in the mix. "I enjoyed seeing you very much Katyusha. Please take care."

Ukraine pats his back gently. "I will. And you too dear. Oh, and remember what I said about Natalya."

"Da. I will remember." After another moment—just a little longer, just a little—Russia finally let's go. "I hope to see you again soon. Goodbye."

"Goodbye Vanya, America."

"Alfred is fine," America says flippantly.

Russia stares at him. What is America trying to do at this point? Further distraction? Is he trying to get some sort of reaction out of Russia? He doesn't get it. It is so sudden and confusing.

"A-alright then, goodbye Alfred." She waves at them and America gives her a hearty wave back. Russia's is much more subdued. Ukraine turns to Lithuania. "Are you leaving after dropping them off as well?"

Lithuania nods. "Yes, but thank you so very much for everything Miss Ukraine. I hope to repay your hospitality someday."

She quickly waves her hands. "Oh no, don't you worry about that! I didn't mind at all, really!"

America puts an arm around Lithuania quickly before they can get into an 'I couldn't possibly' 'Oh no I insist' loop. They might be there forever. "I am sure he would be very happy if you took that offer. But that is for the future, eh? For now I am going to steal him away so we can get to the airport. My apologies."

Ukraine pauses then smiles softly. "Have a safe trip everyone!"

There are assurances and more brief waves and then everyone is out the door. Once they get to the car they all stare at it then each other, mentally calculating seating arrangements. After a pause America slips into the front passenger seat. Lithuania holds his breath and anxiously watches Russia. Frowning slightly, Russia resigns himself to the backseat without making a comment. Lithuania gets in nervously. Whatever happened must be worse between than he thought...

The mood in the car is tense as Lithuania drives them towards the airport. Multiple times he opens his mouth to say something to try and ease the tension but inevitably closes it before he has said a word. America stares out the window steadfastly and Russia watches him from the backseat. It is all quite uncomfortable.

By the time they have reached their destination not one of them has spoken a single word and Lithuania's nerves are on edge. "W-well we're here."

For the first time America's gaze wavers and he seems to really see what's outside for the first time. "Huh, so we are. Awesome."

He starts to get out of the car then pauses to shoot Lithuania a small smile. Lithuania returns it hesitantly. Behind him he hears Russia getting out and slamming the door. Lithuania scrambles to get out and join them. America puts an arm around his shoulder and pulls him into step beside him before letting go and Lithuania finds he is being used as a buffer between the two of them. His heartbeat accelerates nervously and he avoids looking at Russia at all costs.

Now that they are in the open America finds all sorts of unimportant things to chatter about. Perhaps to make them look normal, which admittedly is hard to do. Lithuania patiently listens and nods, all the while wondering what has gone wrong. A fight about the visit to Ukraine's house? Is he part of the problem? And all the while Russia is a wall of silence.

After checking their tickets they head towards security. Lithuania can go no further. "Goodbye Russia, it was nice to see you today. I hope you have a good flight back."

Russia nods, barely acknowledging him, and immediately begins to walk towards security. America gives Lithuania a hearty pat on the back. "Thanks for everything Toris, it was really great to see you. Let's hang out in the future, okay?"

Lithuania grabs his sleeve before he can get away, speaking in a hushed voice. "Is everything alright? And just so you know I can tell when you are lying."

America smiles, is on the verge of saying something then stops. The smile fades. "...I'll be alright. I... forgot something important, that's all. Don't worry, it has nothing to do with you. Really."

Lithuania doesn't quite believe him. "...I hope things work out for the best."

America smiles again, softer, sadder, but more honest. "That's all we can hope for, eh Toris? I'll be seeing you."

He flashes him a peace sign and begins to walk away. Lithuania watches him and wonders what he has forgotten. And silently he worries for Russia and America.

Once they are through security and have found their terminal all they can do is wait. They are quite early. Russia decides to try and talk to America so long as they have time. "Alfred, can we just talk about-"

America turns on him, not a trace of a smile on his face any longer. "Don't talk to me. Period. Just don't."

With that he stalks off to a far seat and curls up in it, looking away stubbornly. Russia sighs softly. "Dolboëb."

He sits and closes his eyes. This has turned into a disaster just as he feared. Not quite in the way he had expected it to though. And now all he can do is wait until America is willing to give him even a moment to apologize.

~.

The flight is a sparse one, quite empty really. The airline can't be happy about that. Russia himself is quite annoyed with the fact. Few people means many unoccupied seats. The second it is apparent the plane is as full as it is going to get, America leaves his seat and takes one in the very back row, quite far from where Russia sits.

This is getting ridiculous. America really can be a pouting child sometimes. As they crawl into their second hour on the plane Russia finds himself twice as annoyed as when they had began. He knows this is his fault, really he does. But if America will just talk to him...

Well one advantage of being on a plane, he finally determines, is that America can't escape him. Russia gets up and walks down the aisle, sliding into the row right in front of where America sits by the window. He sits kitty-corner to America, turned around in the seat so he can look down at him. A passing stewardess begins to reprimand him. One very well chosen expression from Russia makes her decide that as long as the seat belt light isn't flashing she will let him be.

America does not acknowledge Russia's presence, just stares blankly out the window. "...Alfred. I know you do not want to talk to me. But will you listen? What I said to you was out of line and I apologize. That was not a fair thing to say. Having gotten to know you better I do believe that you really are earnest in trying to help others. And you are right, I should not have had Lithuania spy on you. I still have my own problems to work through. I am not used to trusting people. When I have in the past it has often lead to disappointment so excuse me for putting so little trust in you. Also I...appreciate what you did for me with Katyusha. Thank you. And... I suppose that is all I will say to you for now."

"You used to be really nice to me," America says quietly.

Russia pauses. "What?"

America finally looks at him, frowning. "You used to be nice to me. When I was young."

He changes his position so he is kneeling on his seat and leans against the chair in front of him, turning his head to look at Russia so he is not looking down at him anymore. "We got along pretty well when I was younger. And during the Civil War when France and England had all but abandoned me you were there when I had no one else. I remember... It was so painful. I still remember that pain. Like being torn in half. And one time you held me and told me that...that the first civil war is always the hardest. That I just had to try and hold myself together until I got through it. And I was so grateful that you were there for me."

Russia is speechless for a moment. "...I did not think you remembered any of that. You certainly acted like you did not."

"Oh I didn't. I am terrible at history. I forget things until something brings them to mind again. And now I am remembering all these things about when we used to be on good terms. And I am in awe of how far we have fallen from then. And how cruel we are now to each other. Life is funny, isn't it?"

"...It does not have to be that way."

America laughs, a humorless sound. "But it is that way, that's the thing of it. We both became quite eager to hate each other despite everything. I wonder why? I can't remember when that started specifically. When the transition point was. I just remember the basic reasons."

Yes the basics. Communism was evil, the rush to outdo each other in weapons and technology, and because a hero needs a villain.

Russia stares at him thoughtfully. "So you are saying there is no way to go back to that then? It is all over and done with?"

America sighs. "I don't know what I'm saying. My stupid memory is in overdrive that's all. I know that we obviously have a lot of unresolved bitterness and that while I believe you when you apologize I don't think I believe that you didn't mean it."

There is a long pause. "That might be a correct assumption. I am not trying to make you think I like everything about you or that I ever will. And I certainly do not expect you to like everything about me. But... please believe me when I say that there are many things I have come to like about you. I may not be crazy about you as America, and there might be things about you that still irritate me, but I do like you as Alfred very much. When I arrived today and you made me a part of the group without even realizing it was a big deal... that meant more to me than you know."

That had been a big deal? "We were just picking cherries."

"Alfred, you turned what could have been a very uncomfortable reunion into just that: picking cherries. And it was so wonderful. I was really happy in that moment. I have wanted that for so long. There is something about you that just... I do not even think I can describe it. Perhaps you bother people a lot of the time, but there are times you are so obliviously earnest and accepting. And it is very hard to dislike that."

America looks at him hard, seeming to be thinking about something. "...I guess I didn't mean to be so defensive earlier. And bringing up the Cold War stuff was a slip too. But you need to calm down. It's when you get all in people's faces that you scare them off you know."

Russia feels a pang of hope. "...I understand. I will try my hardest."

America nods. "Good."

He fumbles until he is sitting properly again and resumes looking out the window. Russia tilts his head. Is the conversation over? They seem to have come to a tentative ceasefire on the silence treatment. "May I sit next to you?"

America pauses then nods once. "Yeah, whatever."

Russia struggles out of the seat and into the aisle, slipping into the seat beside America. They sit quietly for a while. Russia looks down and notices America's hand at his side. After debating it back and forth he slowly reaches down and laces their fingers together. He feels the muscles in America's hand tense then relax, and America himself does not protest though he does not look away from the window either. Still, Russia considers it a small victory.

~.

Many hours, two transfers, and a cab ride later, America is exhausted beyond words. All he can think of is how nice it will be to collapse into bed and sleep forever. Russia isn't in much better shape. Oh how beautiful his house looks when they reach it! America wants to embrace it. He digs around for his house keys, pulling them out just as they reach the door. He freezes as he looks down to unlock it. The handle has been ripped off.

"What the fuck? Who the hell would rob me? Damn it! Look alert, we have intruders and who knows if they're still inside."

Russia pauses at the door as America enters, quickly scanning his parameters. There is something about the doorknob that does not sit well with him. It seems eerily foreboding. "Alfred? I think maybe we should leave... Alfred?"

He takes a few timid steps into the house when he is quite suddenly assaulted from behind. Two arms wrap around his neck as two legs find their way around his waist. "Big brother, I have found you!"

A jolt of fear goes down Russia's spine as he recognizes his sister's voice. "N-nooooooo!"

* * *

Translations:

moja dorogaja sestra - my dear sister

Dolboëb – Moron, idiot, but with added stubbornness

**AN**: So do other countries have that thing about tying a cherry stem in a knot with your tongue meaning you're a good kisser? -laughs- Ah, and that fight between America and Russia was between their country sides -nods-


	38. Chapter 38

Greetings~ Hmmm so did y'all see the recent episode about Roswell? Awesome. And America looked so damn cute when he was all crushed. That is why Russia likes seeing him that way -laughs- True fact.

Congrats to morphinecake for being my 1400th reviewer~ You have a week to respond to my message or I will pass on the one shot to the next person. Speaking of one shots I'm way behind but I am still working on them...

And also, just gonna throw it out there again... I love everyone who takes the time to read and/or review this, for serious! You guys are way too good to me~

And one more thing: **AMERICA FUCK YEAAAAAH~!** Happy Independence Day to the United States of America!

(and belated Happy Birthday to the esteemed Canada)

* * *

Belarus tightens her grip on Russia even more. "I have missed you so much big brother! Don't worry, I am here to save you from America. I was thinking about things and realized when you refused to come with me before it was because that damned American was pressuring you not to. You can come home with me now. Everything is alright."

Tears form in Russia's eyes. "Noo Natalya please stoooooop!"

America, who hears Russia's initial cry of fear, bursts into the room. "What happened? Is the intruder in- Oh damn it."

Belarus... definitely on his top list of things he does not want to deal with after a long, tiresome day. He holds his hands up in what he hopes comes off as a peaceful gesture. "Hey there Belarus. I see you have not only broken my doorknob but trashed my house. Maybe you can calm down a bit and tell me what you did that for."

Belarus glares at him from over Russia's shoulder. "You have been holding Ivan hostage! I have come to save him from you."

"You do realize he is here completely voluntarily right?" Does she not remember the two of them running away from her in their last encounter?

"Poor big brother is just confused, aren't you?" She kisses his hair and he begins to tremble. "He doesn't understand that you are bewitching him and misleading him with your lies. Well I will not allow you to seduce him any longer! He is coming home with me if it is the last thing I do!"

She loosens one of the arms around his neck and reaches down to her leg, pushing up her dress to grab a rather large knife. Still attached firmly to Russia's back she holds it out in front of them. "Don't you come anywhere near us and try to interfere America or there will be grave consequences!"

Russia begins to make a soft whimpering sound as Belarus wields her blade. America gives her a look of total disbelief. "Whoa! Okay, Belarus right now your crazy level is at an eleven and I'm going to ask you to turn it down to a four if you can. There is no need for weapons here."

Russia looks like he is going to collapse into a useless trembling mass of tears. He is so useless when it comes to Belarus. "How about you just... put the knife back on your uh... thigh and we can talk about this. Like rational human beings tend to do."

Belarus growls low in her throat. "Look you hussy, I am sick of you getting in my way and confusing Ivan. Why can't you just leave him alone?"

Why is she so convinced he's instigating this? "For the last time, he came on to me first! Did you completely erase everything I said last time we saw each other? Now stop it this instant! Can't you see you're scaring the shit out of the poor guy?"

Belarus narrows her eyes. "Big brother is not afraid of me! He loves me! I know he does!"

Oh lord, maybe he should just call a S.W.A.T. team and be done with it. Belarus is too much for him. Taking a deep breath, America continues to speak calmly, keeping his hands up peacefully. "Yes, he does love you. Very much. But you can't keep doing this Belarus. If he isn't afraid of you then why is he about to cry? Why is he trembling? Look at him for just a second, would you? You have to see what you are doing is not healthy!"

Belarus's grip tightens on the knife until her knuckles turn white. Her eyes jump to Russia for a moment, who has totally frozen. He looks like big brother always looks. That... that isn't him being afraid of her. He is not scared of her! "I-Ivan, tell him that you aren't scared of me! Tell him how much you love me! Tell him!"

Russia opens his mouth and nothing comes out. America tries to get a little closer while she is distracted. "Belarus, please, just get down and we can talk about this-"

She cuts him off with a shriek that makes both of them flinch. Suddenly the blade is turned towards Russia and he whimpers in fear. "Why won't you say anything big brother?"

There is a pause of silence. Finally Russia opens his mouth and manages to speak, voice trembling terribly. "N-Natalya I- I _am _a-afraid of you!"

He winces and closes his eyes tightly. A stunned look crosses Belarus's face. "...You don't... mean that big brother." She grits her teeth. "You don't mean that!"

Her blade nicks Russia's cheek and America's eyes flash. "We both know if you have a problem with anyone here it's me Belarus. So bring it on."

Glaring over at America, the knife finally pulls away from Russia's face. "That is true. You are the one poisoning Ivan's mind!"

She loosens her body hold and jumps to the ground, landing gracefully and circling around Russia. He puts a hand up tentatively. "W-wait-"

America waves a hand gesturing for silence. "Don't you worry about this, I got it."

The words only seem to infuriate Belarus more. "Once you are out of the way big brother will come home for sure!"

They circle each other for a moment, America not even bothering to respond to the claim. She doesn't seem to care much for the truth. Their gazes are locked and America muses that her eyes remind him a lot of Russia's, not so much in shade but the look in them. The resemblance between them is stronger than either of them with Kat. How fitting considering these two are closer personality-wise as well.

In a flash Belarus makes her move with a battle cry, blade slashing the air rapidly. She's agile, America will give her that. What she lacks in physical strength she makes up for in speed. But America is not green at fighting and when it comes to strength Belarus luckily does not take after big brother, otherwise he might be screwed. It is her pure insanity that makes her so dangerous if anything. That is what he has to watch for.

America moves with her, dodging the assault of her blade and looking for an opening. He feels it nick the bridge of his nose and jerks back. Too close, he can't let her get so near him unless he is about to make a move. Last thing he needs is for her to cut him right across the eyes and blind him.

As the two fight in the cramped space Russia bites his thumb, watching worriedly. He should help, he knows he should help, but America told him not to. And Belarus is... she is terrifying. His body feels frozen to the spot, still trembling. He is so completely pathetic when it comes to her but he can't help it. If only she didn't want to marry him, things would be so much easier. Still... He swallows hard. "N-Natalya please st-stop this!"

The words make Belarus pause long enough to look back at Russia. It is all the distraction America needs. He lunges forward and grabs her wrist, allowing his momentum to carry through until the two are on the floor. The impact knocks the blade from her hand as well as momentarily winding her. As she is recovering America switches his position, turning around while letting his weight rest on her stomach enough to keep her pinned.

"I swear I'm not doing anything perverted, got it? I'm just disarming her of weapons." With that stated clearly he lifts her dress up to her thighs, careful to only bring it as high up as is necessary. A variety of smaller blades than the one she has been using are strapped to both legs. "Holy shit, you practically have your own cutlery set!"

He begins to remove them quickly and efficiently, letting them clatter across the floor as Belarus screams and claws at his back. She begins raining blows along his spine when that doesn't work. It hurts a bit but he ignores it, the clenching of his teeth the only indication of pain. Once all the knives are gone America quickly rolls off of her into a crouched position.

Belarus sits up, quickly searching out the nearest knife. America will have none of that. He reaches down and lifts her abruptly, throwing her over his shoulder. She begins to scream and kick. "What do you think you are doing? Put me down at once! Big brother!"

America ignores her completely, tightening his grip so she doesn't get away. "Yo, Ivan, I am going to have a little chat with your sister and she seems to be a lot more crazy when you're around. So we're going for a walk. Be back soon, okay?"

Russia opens his mouth but nothing comes out. He is doing what? Finally he finds his voice. "B-but-"

"Big brother, make him release me this instant!" Belarus sounds like she's going to blow any second and Russia shrinks back as America walks past him.

"See you soon!" America calls from the doorway as if he is doing nothing more than having a pleasant evening stroll. Belarus continues to protest quite loudly and Russia stares after them, somewhat dumbfounded.

After walking a ways America finally puts Belarus down. The two are starting to receive a lot of looks and he doesn't want to draw too much attention. Though thankfully no one has said anything. No one ever cares about anyone else's business after all.

She immediately tries to assault him and he grabs her wrists. "Please calm down Belarus. Seriously, I am getting sort of tired of this and you aren't proving anything. I remember you being a lot more subdued back in the day. You never treated me so badly before."

Belarus glares fiercely up at him. "That was a long time ago and I only tolerated you because my boss told me I had to for any support you provided. I never have been able to stand you!"

"Ouch, that's cold of you to say. And I was so nice to you and everything."

She raises her voice. "Oh, sure you were. You were nice to me because you were so damn smug about the Soviet Union failing! Offering compassion after wanting to see it torn apart so desperately. Your crusade against communism, quite nice indeed!"

The yelling is going to get more attention than his carrying her around. America grabs her arm a little more tightly than is probably necessary and pulls her into the nearest alleyway. "I was helping you because I wanted to, okay? And this has nothing to do with that at all. Look... How did you even know which house to come looking for Ivan at anyway? You didn't trash any of my other places did you?"

Belarus continues to glare at him. "I did not have to. Japan told me I could find him here."

America is taken aback. "...Kiku did? No way."

"I hardly care if you believe me or not you... you pig! Release my brother to me at once!" She puts her hands on her hips, lifting her head up.

So Japan told her... He isn't sure if he should believe her but at the same time it is plausible. "Damn it Kiku... Okay, look Belarus. How many times do I have to tell you? I am in no way forcing your brother to stay here. In fact he's the one who asked if he could. I am not seducing your brother. I'm not doing anything. It is all on him. So give me a break and stop being a psychopath trying to get him to fall in love with you. What you are doing is... it's not okay. It's wrong."

"And why is it wrong? Tell me that! What is so wrong about my love?"

America gives her an exasperated look. "You are his freaking sister that's what! Not to mention you stalk him and force your feelings on him to the point he is scared stiff of you. It isn't okay to do that to someone!"

Belarus lowers her head for a moment. "...And tell me America... You claim that everything... That my brother is insisting on staying with you, that he has come on to you first. You make it sound you are an innocent bystander. Is he merely pushing himself on you as well?"

America is silent. The question is an uncomfortable one. Technically yes, Russia really is doing the same thing that Belarus is, though he comes off as less creepy... which is quite the feat really. "...The situation is complicated-"

"Is he? And if so why is it okay for him to do it and not me? Because... it's working with you?" The words are spit out with great bitterness.

America cringes from the words. "Wh-what? N-no!"

Belarus finally looks back up at him, tears lurking at the corners of her eyes. "How can love be wrong? I don't understand it. I have always loved him and have tried to stay by his side. Even when everyone else abandoned him. It isn't fair! I have always been there. I loved him first! Why did he pick you and not me? Why would he pick someone like you when he has me?"

The tears throw America off. Maidenly tears and whatnot. "I...I have no idea. Sort of just... happened. I mean, I really believe that you honestly love your brother and... um, I think he really loves you too but not like romantically or anything. You have to accept that. I'm sure there are other people you can love." Though unless they are as crazy as Lithuania they probably won't love her back.

She gives him a look of disgust and blinks the tears back. "I don't want to hear that from you! Why do you always have to stick your nose in the business of other people? Don't you dare tell me what to do or how to feel! You just love bossing people around, don't you? It's no wonder no one can stand you! How did big brother pick someone as unlikable as you?"

The words, added to the earlier attack from Russia, sting sharply and in an instant all shred of compassion disappears. "Do you want to know what I honestly think Belarus? That this creepy, childish crush you have on Ivan is completely pathetic! Chasing him around like a lovesick dog then throwing a fit when you don't get your way? I have nothing but contempt for such behavior."

Any last traces of sadness are once more swallowed up by fury. "Don't you judge me! As if you have a right to. You push your will on people all the time then dare preach to people about it? Don't make me laugh!"

America reaches out and grabs the front of her dress, raising a fist with the other hand. She tenses but the fist remains poised in the air. When America speaks his voice is incredibly cold. "I am not afraid to hit women if I think they can take it. And I think you are more than capable of taking a punch. Tomorrow I am going to clean up and take inventory of all the damage you have done to my house. Then I am going to contact your boss and give him the bill for it. I expect the full amount to be paid in a timely manner or I think I will take it as an aggressive gesture. And you, Belarus dear, are going to get into a taxi, go straight to the airport, and get the hell out of my country. And so help me God, if you ever so much as step foot into any of my homes ever again without my prior permission I will not hesitate in hitting you. Ivan is staying with me as long as he damn well pleases so leave him the fuck alone. Do you understand?"

Belarus glowers up at him but it is obvious he is not the slightest bit intimidated by her in that moment. In this country and in this position she hardly has the advantage nor is there much hope of gaining it. She grinds her teeth, seething with fury. "...Fine. But I am not giving up! It is only a matter of time before big brother realizes his mistake and comes back to me. And I will be waiting. I will marry him someday, you just wait and see!"

"Whatever you say sweetie. Do you have money to get around with?"

The condescending tone of his voice sets her nerves on edge. Someday she will get her revenge on America! She pulls herself out of his grip and brushes at her dress. "I got here on my own and I will leave on my own. I don't need your charity or anything from you. Don't think you will keep your hands on my Ivan forever you filth!"

America watches her go wordlessly. His fist trembles and he finally unfurls it. It had been very hard to restrain himself. If she comes back to his house there is no way he can stop himself again no matter what consequences there might be from Russia.

Finally he takes a deep breath and shoves his hands in his pockets. He is tired and the things Belarus said to him still burn. He walks back to the house slowly, glaring at the broken doorknob. He'll call someone first thing in the morning to come out and fix it. He pushes it shut behind him, useless as it may be.

Collapsing onto the couch, he sighs and surveys his living room. It is not so badly trashed as some of the other rooms. He hears the faint clink of glass and looks up at the sound. He calls out, "Hey, I'm back. Your sister has been dealt with for now."

A moment later Russia appears in the doorway looking sheepish. "O-oh? I am terribly sorry about her behavior. I, um, have been cleaning up the dishes she broke."

America runs a hand through his hair. "My dishes huh? Oh well, I've eaten on napkins more than once. Ugh, your sister is..." He dares not finish the sentence. "Glad that's over."

Russia shuffles over and sits on the couch next to him. "I... am sorry that I am not of much use when it comes to her."

"Ah, it's fine. Nothing I couldn't handle. Don't really blame you." He reaches up and runs a thumb along the small cut on Russia's cheek. "Make sure to clean this, who knows what those knives have been in."

Russia reaches up and presses a finger to the already forming scab on America's nose. "And you as well. Though it is quite a small nick luckily for you."

"Oh good, I was afraid I'd have to use a band-aid on it. Walk around looking like Australia or something. Got away with a lot less damage than last time at least." His eyes turn to the various knives that are strewn across the floor. "Hm, I wonder how she got all those knives through airline security without being stopped?"

Russia plays with his scarf. "Well Natalya has always had her ways."

"Mm, doesn't surprise me." America looks down at his knees, eyes narrowing. "Hey... Ivan?"

He is still calling him Ivan even outside of a confrontation with Belarus which is a good sign. But America's voice has become very soft. Russia hopes he isn't angry about something his sister did. "Da Alfred?"

"...You said you liked me right? I mean, are you totally serious about that? For one second I want you to forget your whole mission of making me fall in love with you and everything. Just tell me in all honesty if you really meant it."

Russia's eyes widen. What has brought this on? "Of course I did."

America slumps against Russia's shoulder, head tilted down to hide his face. "Then can you say it again?"

Perhaps Belarus said something to him to bring this insecurity on. It probably doesn't help that he had insulted America earlier. He presses a soft kiss to the top of America's head. "I like you very much Alfred. Really I do. Do you like me as well?"

America looks up at him with a somewhat grumpy expression. The effect is slightly ruined by the light blush that dusts his cheeks. "I guess you're okay. Even if you're a total wimp when it comes to your sister."

Russia giggles slightly, embarrassed that America had to come to his rescue again, and puts an arm around him. "Did Natalya say something?"

"Oh she had more than one thing to say, trust me. It's not a big deal I just..." He looks down again, trying to think of the most manly explanation for his need for reassurance.

Deciding to be nice, Russia runs his fingers through America's hair and changes the topic. "Thank you for taking care of my sister. I am grateful you got her to leave peacefully. I wonder how she found me?"

America frowns. "Kiku told her apparently... I don't know if I believe that but I guess..." Japan really doesn't like Russia at all. "Damn, I just can't believe he would go so far."

This revelation does not sit well with Russia. Once more that man is meddling where he is not wanted. And to pull his sister into the mess? It is nothing if not vulgar. "So this is Japan's fault?"

America gives him a sharp, nearly reprimanding look. "Do not, I repeat, do not go into psycho mode. I can't confirm that yet. I guess I'll go have a chat with him soon. But you are not to go near him, do you understand me?"

Russia grumbles. While he fears his sister he most certainly does not approve of anyone using her for personal goals and agendas. "I will attempt to contain myself. If he comes across my path I make no promises whatsoever."

Oh good. Now Russia is in pissed off mode again. He just doesn't understand why Japan would do something like this to him. Doesn't the guy know how cuckoo bananas Belarus is? "I think it's time for this cowboy to go to bed. Everything can be left for the morning. Seriously, I am so exhausted I can barely think."

Russia isn't quite sure if he is forgiven enough to sleep in the bedroom yet. Is it inappropriate to ask? He does not know if there is etiquette for this but he is aware of the 'sleeping on the couch for bad behavior' scenario. "I...will be in later."

He watches carefully to see what America's reaction will be. But America merely shrugs. "Don't make a lot of noise."

So it seems he is not banished from the bedroom (not that it has ever prevented him from finding a way into America's bed prior to this incident). This means that America can't be too mad at him, which perks Russia up a bit. "Da. Goodnight Alfred."

"Night." America waves a hand and goes to the bathroom, glaring at the shattered mirror. Ugh, what a pain. Belarus seriously messed some things up which means repairs and cleanup. Maybe he should make arrangements for things here and go stay in his D.C. house for a while. Then again being so close to his boss means he can't get away with as much. Well there are plenty of other places to go. California is pretty nice this time of year...

Avoiding the glass, America brushes his teeth before heading for bed. Thankfully the bedroom has minimal damage. Maybe the sunflowers kept Belarus at bay or something. Slipping beneath the covers is heavenly. What a hectic day. Russia's family is quite a handful, that's for sure. Wait a minute... He forgot that he wasn't going to let Russia off the hook so soon! And what does he do? Gets all sappy and lame with him and tells him he can sleep in the bed. Oh well, he got to play the hero and be all awesome and stuff and he always loves that. Especially when the one he is saving is Russia.

Stupid Belarus, getting him all messed up with her crazy! And then what she says comes back to slap him in the face. _"Because... it's working with you?" _He clutches his pillow tightly. As if! There is no way in hell he is falling for Russia. Not in a zillion billion years ever forever. It's like... not even scientifically possible.

Completely annoyed but too exhausted to care anymore, America punches his pillow and closes his eyes. Tomorrow is sure to be busy.

* * *

**AN: **"You never treated me so badly before." - It is stated that Natalya briefly became a sort of adoptive younger sister to Alfred after the fall of the Soviet Union. However I have never seen anything about how this played out so I don't know how that went down. I mostly imagine it being Alfred being the oblivious, intrusive hero as usual and Natalya putting up with it while either being annoyed by him or (more likely) silently loathing him.

Next chapter will _probably _have something quite lovely in it.


	39. Chapter 39

Hey~ Let's see, a few quick things. Long chapter is long. I considered chopping it in half then figured why bother when it is all written already? And as promised, something quite lovely is indeed in this chapter. Wonderland Massacre, your long overdue one shot is my next priority.

English Hetalia dub: I want to see more of it before I make a final decision but overall I am content with what I have seen. I do believe that I'll prefer the subbed version but I think the dub will amuse me. And I fell madly in love with English Germany. He's my favorite.

* * *

Perhaps the most amazing thing about Belarus is not that she trashed America's house in a jealous rage, but that she left so many secret, nasty surprises everywhere. The water bottles filled with bleach are America's personal favorite example of how fucking crazy she is. Good thing the smell is too strong to ever mistake for something drinkable and all the tops are loose to indicate something wrong.

So, as two men work on replacing his front door and Russia continues to pick up various broken things for him to catalogue, America goes through anything and everything he can to make sure it isn't booby-trapped. By noon the house has been gone over from floor to roof twice at least, everything broken has been cleaned up, and the door is as good as new. There are still signs of his poor house's abuse, things he will need to have fixed, but it isn't quite as bad as he had thought last night. It still leaves him feeling bummed out.

With a sigh he collapses onto the couch and looks around his living room. The TV is broken and it isn't even very old... America rubs his temples, feeling a throb of annoyance. At least she hadn't really touched his game consoles or found his movies or he might have flipped.

Russia watches America from a short distance. Last night they had slept in the same bed but he had not made an attempt to get close to him and for once America did not curl up against him for warmth. While Belarus has distracted them from their recent breakdown in progress it feels like a superficial fix. He can sense that all is not quite forgiven or forgotten.

For a moment he broods over the issue, wondering if there is a way he can close the gap back up while cheering Alfred up simultaneously. At first no solution comes to him and he considers calling Italy for advice. Quite suddenly a piece of information Lithuania provided him comes floating to the front of his mind. A small plan hatches on the spot. Hopefully it will work.

Padding over to America quietly, Russia sits next to him on the couch, staring at him expectantly. After a moment of trying to ignore him America finally glances his way. "...Yes? Something on your mind there Ivan?"

"Alfred...you have been working all day, as have I. This is the doing of my sister which makes me partially responsible so I would like to try and make it up to you in a small way. So if you are interested, perhaps you would like to go on a date? I will treat you to ice cream."

America, determined to make Russia really repent for his harsh words the other day, immediately forgets his plan in a moment of pure happiness. "Ice cream? Yeah! Let's get ice cream!"

In a flash America is on his feet and pulling at Russia to get up. He complies, allowing America to tug him forward like an impatient puppy. What an instant mood shift. Russia makes a mental note to do something for Lithuania for his valuable information on the young nation.

"So what kind do you want? Street stand? Store bought? Ice cream parlor? Something local or big chain? Frozen yogurt alternative? Though I wouldn't waste my time on that junk. Rice ice cream? Gelato? Classic soft serve? Mmm soft serve..." America's eyes are all but sparkling.

His enthusiasm makes Russia giggle. "Whatever you want my buttercup."

America stares at him blankly for a moment. "...No. Just no on that nickname."

"Oh? I think it is cute."

The slight snicker in the words irritates America and he jabs Russia in the ribs. "Classic soft serve it is! Ooh, there's a cart that usually sets up near the park. Let's go there."

Only wincing slightly Russia waves his arm grandly. "Lead the way."

After walking a ways, America looking like he might explode from anticipation, they reach the place. The park makes Russia frown softly for just a moment. The place of his forced confession. It is not exactly a place of good memories, limited as his experience with it may be. America is, as always, oblivious to Russia's reaction to it.

America suddenly points. "There it is, right there, hurry!"

Such simple things give him pleasure...It is sort of cute. At least it is not hard to pull him out of a depression. Well...the non-financial kind anyway. "Da, I see it."

They get in line and America bounces on his heels as they wait for a small group of children to order. Once it is their turn America's mouth is a rush of words. He must be a regular or something because the man simply smiles and nods like he's heard it all before then turns to Russia with an upraised eyebrow. After a small pause Russia asks for something simple then hands over the last of his American change. It reminds him that he has to restock soon. Converting currency is so tedious. If only everyone used Rubles it would be so much simpler.

A few minutes of America's restless fussing later they are handed their ice creams. Russia gets a simple strawberry while America has some grand concoction of flavors, colors, and toppings. "I love ice cream so much! Let's go eat this in the shade before it gets all melty."

He begins to half-skip towards a bench protected by shade, looking like he has just been told all of the happiness in the world has been bestowed upon him. Russia wonders what it must feel like to get such pure joy from something. He has simple pleasures as well but most are tinged with melancholy or bitterness.

Russia suddenly notices a break in the sidewalk. "Ah, Alfred, watch out for the-"

Too late. America's foot catches on it and he jerks forward. The whole next moment feels like it has been slowed down as America's ice cream slips from his hand. "Nnnooooooo!"

As he grasps for it desperately it splatters on the pavement. Russia freezes and looks at America to see how he will react. America collapses to his knees and stares at the ruined ice cream in shock and horror, more stunned than anything. "Ah...m-my...ice cream..."

He continues to stare at the spot. Finally after a long pause he mutters, "...You will not be forgotten soldier..."

With those words it is apparent to Russia the loss of his ice cream is more traumatizing for America than it should be. He goes to his side and kneels beside him. "Are...you alright Alfred?"

America slowly turns his head to look at him, expression still dazed. "It...was so brave."

Now Russia is just concerned. He has no more money on him for another ice cream. "Um...uh, w-would...you like my ice cream instead?"

Surprise flashes across America's face and then unabridged delight. "Really? I can have it? If it's okay..."

Nodding quickly Russia holds it out for America, who takes it eagerly enough. America looks down at it then licks the side to catch a drop from running down onto his hand. He smiles brightly at Russia, a small dab of strawberry ice cream on his nose. "Thank you!"

Adorable...America is painfully adorable right then. Russia feels a flash of heat in his face and gets an odd urge to fiercely kiss America. It is different than the borderline violent or possessive urges he usually has and he doesn't quite know how to respond. And as he is trying to figure it out America starts to stand, brushing at the knees of his pants.

"Come on, get up. We must show proper respect for the fallen ice cream." Once Russia stands America salutes the poor victim of his own carelessness. "Thank you for existing and forgive me for carelessly dropping you before you could fulfill your proper destiny."

"Damn shame...Poor ice cream." With that he turns away, shaking his head. Then he begins to work on Russia's ice cream as he walks towards the bench with a great deal more care. Russia glances one last time at the ruined ice cream, a couple of ants already cautiously inching towards it. He bites back a giggle and follows America to the bench.

For a while he simply watches America as he blissfully licks and sucks on the ice cream with all the obliviousness of a child. Eating really does make him happy it seems, no wonder he's always doing it. America suddenly pulls back from the cone and blinks. "Oh...do you want any?"

A small giggle escapes Russia. He almost declines—it's too much fun watching America eat it—but then he notices there is still a small dot of it on America's nose. "...Da, I would like some."

He leans forward as if to lick the cone then changes direction at the last moment and licks America's nose. A blush bursts across America's face and he pulls back. "Ew! Y-you big old creep!"

Russia merely smiles pleasantly at him. "It is quite good."

"...You can't have anymore. Weirdo." America turns all his attention back to eating, looking a little more flustered than blissful now.

Terribly amused at his reaction, Russia goes back to watching him. Sometimes he looks up to observe what is around them. Children shrieking and running around, joggers lost in their own world, couples holding hands, birds and squirrels flitting around for crumbs. The ice cream is probably covered in insects by now. "You are strange Alfred."

America gives him an indignant look. "I'm strange? I'm not the one who goes around licking people's noses. For all I know you're a...a cannibal! This is all actually an overly elaborate plan to eat me! And if you attempt it I hope you choke on my fat content, cannibal scum!"

"You really do not look like you have much fat on you, you know. And if I were going to eat you I would have done it already. And I do wonder if you ever taste your words before they come out or if you are even aware of what you say half the time." Russia smiles at him.

"Pft, I almost always know exactly what I am saying most of the time I will have you know! And for all I know you are waiting for the opportune moment of plumpness! One never knows with sneaky Russian cannibals. ...You really...don't think I look fat?" America takes a bite from the edge of his cone to avoid looking at him.

Now that Russia thinks about it most of the other countries enjoy making comments on American weight problems. No wonder America is so sensitive about his weight. He had been a bit chubby at one point but now he is mostly muscle. The twit probably doesn't know the difference between muscle mass and fat content. "Not in the least. But if you would like I can make a closer inspection."

"No thanks, I don't think that's necessary." But a pleased expression does slip past his defenses. "Ah, then again maybe just because you're so big-"

Russia pinches America's cheek hard, giving him a tight smile. "I am big, da. Broad, da. Fat? Nyet."

"Ow, ow, ow! O-okay I was joking, joking I said!" He rubs his cheek as Russia releases it. "Guy can't take a joke..."

Still, it gives him an odd pleasure to know that Russia is at least somewhat sensitive about his own size to get defensive about it. He is kind of a giant next to most of the countries except maybe Sweden. Who is also pretty intimidating. Russia continues to give him a sour look for a few moments more. A soft breeze ruffles their hair and America can't help but notice what a truly nice day it is. His mood has improved quite a lot since getting away from the house and he supposes he has Russia to thank for that.

"...Sorry I said that. Didn't mean to offend you or anything." He continues to work on the ice cream, pushing it further down into the cone with his tongue. Not another word has passed between them by the time America shoves the last bit of cone into his mouth and chews it.

Then quite suddenly Russia speaks. "Tell me something Alfred."

America raises an eyebrow and swallows the end of his cone. "What?"

"Anything. So long as it is something about yourself."

The request still isn't making much sense to America. "...Something about myself?"

Russia gives him an almost irritated look. "Da. Something about yourself. Like...what do you do in your free time? Are watching movies and playing video games your only hobbies?" And eating.

"Oh...um. No of course not. I'm actually really interested in Archeology. I've even gone on some digs and stuff. It's pretty cool."

That is not a response that Russia expects. "Archeology? I thought you were not particularly interested in the past."

America laughs. "Yeah, not too much. But Archeology is kinda badass, y'know? Discovering stuff, it feels like uncovering secrets all Indiana Jones style. It's fun because you can think of it as an adventure even when not a lot ends up happening. I mean, a lot of the other countries act like you have to take things really seriously. Like Germany, yeesh. I know most people think I'm really childish. I just like making life more interesting. What's wrong with that? Why does everything have to be so serious all the time?"

"I...have no idea. I suppose it is just a little harder for some of us not to take things quite seriously." One can't push away reality all the time, he wants to say. But he doesn't want to offend America again.

"Mmm... I make it a point not to whenever is possible." America stretches. Reality bores and or depresses him. When he does have to deal with something really serious it ends with him becoming a dulled shadow of his usual vibrant self. It hurts and America doesn't like to hurt. None of them do he supposes. Maybe someday he will ask Russia, so very much older than himself, how he copes with it. "Ah, um...I guess I also like sports a lot."

"Sports? That makes sense. You always do get so obnoxious around the Olympics. Though with the winter Olympics up to 1990..."

"Yeah, yeah, the Soviet Union always getting the most medals blah blah blah. Your communist tricks were very impressive. And I don't just mean things like the Olympics. It's just fun sometimes to go out and play sports. Man, sometimes I play baseball with Mattie and he totally sucks!" America starts laughing. "Catches baseballs better with his face than with his hand! And I even go easy on him and everything. Oh well, he usually beats me at hockey. Japan isn't too bad at baseball though. Guy is small but quick."

America frowns slightly, reminding himself of Japan's potential betrayal. And by the rapidly souring look on Russia's face it seems to be a good time to change the subject. "Um, and I've made some movies. I mean, they aren't the best or anything but some of them are kind of cool."

Some of them are mind blowing awesomefests but admittedly when France had gotten his hands on them and made fun of a few it had taken some of the wind out of his sails. Best not to overplay them and get knocked down. Though in his heart of hearts he'll always think they're the coolest thing ever.

"So what about you? What do you like to do when you aren't..." Being really creepy. "Busy."

Russia lifts his face to catch a breeze. "Mm...Well, I like to play games, like chess. I always enjoy playing against you. And ice skating. Once upon a time I did a fair amount of dancing."

"Dancing?" America blinks. Not exactly the kind of response he expects from Russia. "What kind of dancing?"

"Well, I do know ballet. France may have invented it but my people perfected it. And cossack dancing has always been my favorite. I am also familiar with some of the more traditional waltzes."

America groans. "I hate traditional dancing. Like, I will never forget the grueling hours of England teaching me and all but telling me I wasn't breathing properly. And what the hell, ballet? Man that's really hilarious and if I was capable of imagining it I would die of laughter."

"Oh? At least I have dances." Russia smiles at him curtly.

"What are you talking about? I totally have my own dances! I will have you know I can jitterbug, swing dance, break dance, and I know a fair amount of hip hop, so there." And that is just some of the dances he has learned over the years. America may not have fancy dances but the ones he does do are fun as hell.

"Please, excuse me for my ignorance." Russia chuckles softly. "I thought all you could do now was that grinding."

"Pft, no way. Though you know, I really can't think of the last time I went out dancing. It's not very in anymore except on TV..." Well, there are plenty of places to go dancing but it isn't quite mainstream anymore to actually learn dances. "And as for fancy dancing...hmmm I don't even remember. I think I had to slow dance at a special event or two but I can't quite bring it to mind."

A wistful look crosses Russia's face. "I can still remember waltzing with all of Nicholas's four daughters. The Romanov girls were quite fond of dancing..." His mouth becomes a tight line, eyes getting a distant look America doesn't much care for. The Romanov family...Not a good topic to have Russia think about.

America grabs Russia's scarf and tugs, bringing him back to the present with a somewhat confused expression. "Hey...Cossack dancing is actually really cool. Sometime if you teach me how to do some I'll show you how to jitterbug. Deal?"

It takes a moment longer but finally the odd mood seems to pass and Russia smiles again. "Da, I will take you up on that."

"Great!" He smacks Russia's shoulder and quickly shifts the topic away. All of them have difficult stretches of history. It doesn't hurt to know and avoid them. "Y'know, it's such a nice day. We should walk around for a while. I know I definitely don't want to go home yet."

"Very well. Where would you like to go?" Russia stands up and brushes himself off briefly.

"Doesn't matter. Let's just walk." It is warm, there is a cool breeze, and there is a certain relaxed atmosphere going on. It's the kind of day where one doesn't need to have a goal in mind, just has to be out experiencing life.

And so they walk, America filling the air with ceaseless chatter about nothing particularly important. And not once does Russia tell him to stop or to shut up. Just listens patiently. It finally occurs to America that he has been talking for a very long time and is not even listening to himself. Why should he expect Russia to? "Er...What was I saying?"

"Hm? You were discussing a plan that would vitalize robots to end world hunger but I think somewhere along the way it turned into a daydream because it lost any thread of sense long ago." Russia sounds highly amused.

"Oh." America laughs and rubs the back of his head. "I do that sometimes. Really, I must be pretty annoying. England tells me I am anyway. And I have to warn you that happens a lot. All the time actually. Are you sure you wouldn't be interested in someone a little quieter? You'll probably get sick of the sound of my voice."

Russia reaches out and grabs the sleeve of America's coat, stopping him and waiting until he turns towards him. "I do not mind. My world has been filled by silence for a very long time Alfred. I want someone who will talk to me. Who wants to talk to me." The words give America a very lonely mental image of Russia and he frowns. Russia tilts his face up and presses his thumb to America's lower lip. "Besides, I can always find ways to make you stop if I do not want to hear you anymore."

A light flush that is a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment splashes his cheeks and he pulls his face away. "Very funny."

"But I am not being funny Alfred. I do mean it." Russia lightly strokes his cheek, enjoying the deepening shade of red on America's face.

America reaches up and takes the hand on his cheek in his own. "Well you don't have to worry about being so alone anymore." It was his current mission statement to end all that after all. "Hey, are you hungry? There's a restaurant nearby that's pretty-"

Russia suddenly pulls America close, kissing him. Why is it that he can do and say things that make Russia so happy, that make his heart ache, and be so oblivious? America really is dense but perhaps at times it is more of a good point than a bad one. He pulls away and almost laughs at the bewildered expression America is making. "I told you I can find ways."

"W-why you-"

Before he can get too offended Russia returns to the topic of food. "I do not mind going out to eat but I am out of money."

America continues to give him a severe look then turns away. "Well...That's fine. I'll just pay. You're my guest type thing so really I should be anyway."

While Russia would prefer to pay for his dear Alfred, he is sure America is not the type who likes to have his way paid all the time. It probably takes away from his feeling of independence. Besides, he is still feeling warm from America's earlier comment and wants the date to continue. Maybe he will say more obliviously cute and comforting things. "Da, your treat then."

"Okay! Let me just remember where it is..." After getting mildly lost for about twenty minutes they find the place America is thinking of and after another short wait are seated. Once they order they settle in and find themselves with more silence.

The pause is not uncomfortable but is something neither of them particularly like. Russia starts drawing a lazy pattern on the side of his glass of water. "Tell me something else about yourself, Alfred."

"What, anything again? Is this how you'll get to know everything about me? Just slowly ask until there is nothing new to know?" He asks with an amused tone to his voice.

"I can never know everything about you Alfred, no more than you ever could or would tell me everything there is about you. Tell me something important then, if you want to get specific. Tell me something you have not particularly told anyone else."

"Hmph, well that's really nosy of you. Tell you a secret is pretty much what you're saying."

"...I suppose so." Russia erases his doodles with one swipe of his fingers. "I will tell you something in return if you do."

America leans his chin on his hand and stares at Russia thoughtfully. "Okay. Fine. But you had better keep your word."

Russia looks up, his usual smile in place. "Of course."

America takes a deep breath. "I guess I have been thinking of something lately. You know a while back when you were being totally creepy beyond all words and chained me up and served me dinner? You know... after knocking me out with your pipe because you were all jealous of En-"

"That is quite enough Alfred, I know what you are talking about."

"Right. Well you were saying how sometimes we all have to do things for...for ourselves. Not always for the country side. And I pretty much denied it. I...lied. I did something once for myself and...and it could have had really negative effects on my people. And I didn't care."

He pauses and Russia looks at him curiously, waiting for him to continue on his own.

America takes another deep breath. He really shouldn't be sharing this with Russia. But it has been weighing on his mind for a while now and he wants to...who knows, confess maybe. "My war of independence... it wasn't completely necessary at the time it happened. Eventually it would have happened but not everyone was bothered by how England was acting at the time. I mean, there were still people who were loyalists and a lot of people didn't want to take sides one way or the other. It wasn't the will of all of the people and many were upset by my decision. But back then I wanted to be free so badly I didn't care and England had gotten so controlling I thought I would die. They didn't matter to me, not really. Even the ones who were with me. I wasn't doing it for them. It was selfish I guess. But...it's what I wanted more than anything. Back then the country part of me was still forming, you know? It was less clear, had less of a hold over me. It used to be so much easier to do what I wanted. It was so much easier...Being free."

America stares at the table, not daring to look at Russia. "And the more 'developed' I got the less free I became. I miss being that free but now I can't do things like that. Sacrifices I suppose."

"Sacrifices," Russia repeats quietly. He knows all about sacrifices.

"That really fucked with my relationship with England for a long time as you may remember. A long, long time. I don't like it when people want to keep me in a cage." He speaks slowly, letting Russia feel the full weight of those words.

After a pause of silence America lifts his face, meeting Russia's gaze. It is quiet and nonjudgmental. Perhaps even understanding. "Just so you know it's not like I'm saying you're right or anything. I don't want it to go on record that Alfred F. Jones told a lie about that, that's all. So what about you? Let's hear your half of the deal."

Russia tilts his head, as if listening to something America cannot hear. When he speaks his voice is very even. "Despite what all of you might think I am aware that I was very much insane for a while. And that sometimes I am still not what you all consider sane. But I am much better now."

"...I guess that must be true. What do they say? Only crazy people think they're sane." America smiles at him despite a pang of discomfort. Prior to 1905 while a much younger America had known him Russia had been fairly sane if not a bit eccentric, though others would probably disagree with him on that. It had been hard seeing him go through that rough spot. Until he didn't care about him anymore, that is.

Not quite wanting to answer, Russia unwraps his silverware and starts playing with his fork. "Mm...I am also very fond of Winnie the Pooh. However, my version was better."

For a moment America just stares at him, unsure if he heard right. Then he bursts into laughter. "What the hell? Winnie the Pooh? Are you kidding me? And what do you mean your version?"

"Vinni Pukh. I will show it to you sometime if you like."

America continues to cackle. "Hell yeah, I have to see that! Oh man...V-Vinnie...Pooh...Oh my sides!"

A silent agreement passes between them as America laughs and Russia smiles softly that they will not talk about heavy things anymore. Enough has been drudged up for one day and they both have their limits.

And so as their food arrives the conversation is once more turned to lighter topics, fluff that America pulls from the air. There is the occasional word about current events, though that is not quite safe territory either as they tend to have differing views on most things. Russia eventually gets tired of telling America he can't understand him if he talks while he eats.

Once they finish eating they leave and wander a while longer before finally deciding to return to America's house. By now America is in a much better mood and the few touches of Belarus's recent madness do not bother him as much as they had earlier.

Much to his secret delight Russia asks to see some of his movies and they watch a few on his computer. Russia does not dish out undeserved praise on the already egotistical America but is honest in what he likes about them. They are entertaining and America has some interesting ideas. More than the films, though, he likes the way America lights up when he talks about them and what went into making them.

Then America has Russia show him this 'Vinni Pukh', laughing until it hurts as Russia merely watches with a pleased expression on his face. He gives America a sharp pinch when his mockery is too grating. Once they have watched it all a surprisingly long conversation is sparked about whose version is indeed better, completely ignoring its origin in England. There is a brief argument as they discuss its being made during the Soviet era, at one point the conversation hitting a rather philosophical note then somehow turning into a conversation about which country should theoretically be used as an emergency sacrifice in a zombie apocalypse. Russia argues for Latvia but America disagrees on the grounds that he is too small and won't placate them long enough.

A lazy mood overcomes both of them once they are all talked out and they lethargically sit side by side. After a while America turns to Russia. "Hey. Um...Thanks. I was admittedly kind of in a slump after dealing with your sister yesterday. And today was...It was just what I needed to recharge myself. I feel a lot better. Other than a few little things like the tragedy of the lost ice cream which we shall remember in our hearts forever, this is one of the funnest days I've had in a while."

"I am glad. I also had fun. For me days like this are very special." They are quite rare.

America beams at him. "Of course, you were with me and it's impossible not to have fun with me!"

As he laughs and gloats Russia reaches up and cups America's face gently. The laughter stops and they look at each other for a moment. Finally, slowly, Russia pulls him close and kisses him. If Russia had tried this earlier America would have pulled away. He might not have bitched him out but he sure as hell wouldn't have tolerated it after the day before. But after their "date" America is feeling less hostile and rather open to the lips pressing against his own, even kissing back softly. In this moment it feels too right to deny.

They continue to kiss, not rushed by any pressing needs or sudden knocks or phone calls for once. America shifts his body and wraps his arms around Russia's neck. He is calm, not feeling the need to resist violently. He wants this and while he won't parade the news down the town square he won't fight it tooth and nail. The decision has been made and that's good enough for America. He isn't quite sure what Russia is to him but friends with benefits will do just fine for the time being.

Russia traces his hand along America's back lazily. It is very encouraging to have him be so willing, so responsive. Eventually he breaks the kiss, trailing his lips down to his neck. He finds a nice spot and licks it softly before sucking gently.

"Mm, you...Always marking me up. Is that really necessary?" He still has a huge fucking bite mark on his shoulder after all.

The sucking ceases. "Of course it is Alfred. Very necessary."

He begins to lower America back onto the couch, the sucking resuming. With a somewhat amused smirk on his lips America runs his fingers through Russia's hair. "Do it somewhere less conspicuous."

Russia makes a low sound that is something between a grunt and a growl, refusing to obey. Even as America frowns at the blatant disregard of the request, shivers of anticipation travel up and down his spine. No England or Belarus or Ukraine and Lithuania to interrupt. "Hey, you're gonna bore me if that's all you want to do."

With a low chuckle Russia finally pulls up, hovering above America. "Well we would not want that, would we?" He leans in and starts kissing America again, hands moving along his body. America moans appreciatively and grasps lightly at Russia's back. Russia's tongue runs lightly over America's lower lip. "Well, Mr. Cherry stem, care to show me what you can do with that tongue of yours?"

With a light laugh America opens his mouth invitingly for the Russian, their tongues soon tangling, the battle for dominance a subtle thing. America begins to shift, discreetly pushing up against Russia. His heart is pounding despite the relaxed pace of what they are doing. Noticing the gentle movements, Russia slips one of his hands between their bodies, letting it travel down to rub at America's crotch, eliciting a small gasp.

They pull away from each other, catching their breath. Violet eyes regard America curiously. "Tell me Alfred, how far do you want this to go?"

America blinks up at him, trying to gather his wits about him. "...I don't want to have full on sex." He isn't quite ready for something like that with Russia. Isn't sure if he should even go that far with him. "But anything less than that...I want that."

If Russia is disappointed by America's verdict he doesn't show it. He hums thoughtfully. "Foreplay? So something like the other morning is what you want?"

After a second America nods. "Yeah, something like that. And let's go to the bedroom. It's a lot easier to change the sheets than clean up the couch."

Russia chuckles and leans up. Before he gets off completely he digs into America's pockets, finally pulling out his cell phone. He turns it off then gets up, pulling out his own phone and turning it off before placing them both aside completely. America watches with amusement as Russia proceeds to lock the newly replaced front door. "Going all out are we?"

Russia turns to look at him with a deceptively innocent smile. "I am simply making sure I have you all to myself without a single distraction. And even if someone comes crashing through the ceiling you are to explicitly ignore anyone but me."

What a weird guy. His possessiveness still irks America something awful but in this moment at least it comes off more as entertaining than anything else. "Whatever you say Vanya."

The unexpected use of the nickname pleases Russia and his smile feels more genuine than usual as he turns it on America. "Shall we?"

Something about this seems almost silly and America bites back a snort of laughter. He stands and begins to walk towards the bedroom. Russia falls into step behind him, gently placing a hand on his lower back. It slides away as they enter the room and Russia closes the door behind them. He is hellbent on making sure nothing gets in his way at the last moment. Even if he cannot have all of America he wants to take as much as he can get.

Without missing a beat America takes off Texas, putting them safely aside, then crawls onto the bed. He leans back against the pillows, staring up at Russia like an expectant child waiting for something promised to him. While there is something decidedly innocent about America's face it is undermined by a certain sense of knowing that flashes from time to time in his sky blue eyes. Naïve but not ignorant.

Russia licks his lips. Framed with the sunflowers in the background it makes a pretty picture. America narrows his eyes. "You better not be having weird thoughts."

"Says the one who imagined me almost naked saying 'Hello lover, kolkolkol'. You know...We have the supplies to recreate that fantasy for you."

"I-it was not a fantasy! Just a weird mental image. And no thanks. Get on the damned bed before I change my mind already."

With a slight smirk Russia walks over and places his knee on the edge of the bed, lingering to fully appreciate the way it sinks beneath him before bringing himself onto it. The mood is slightly different than it had been in the living room. More playful, perhaps a bit more impatient.

Russia slides between America's legs, admiring him for a moment. What progress he has made. He grabs the bottom of America's shirt and tugs it up, the other nation lifting his arms cooperatively as he pulls it off and tosses it aside. His fingers immediately go to the button of America's pants when hands rest lightly on his.

"Hey, go ahead and take 'em off but don't think I'm going to be the only one naked here. You better start stripping once you're done." America refuses to be alone in a state of nude vulnerability. Equal, it all has to be equal.

Russia leans in and kisses America softly on the lips. "So eager to see me?"

America snorts but doesn't deny it, instead pushing his face away. "Get on with it then."

His little American is so very adorable. He knows exactly what he wants to do with him. Too bad there is a limit on what he can do. Russia returns to America's pants, this time uninhibited. Soon they are resting on the ground with the discarded shirt. With a small smile he unwinds his scarf, placing it aside gently before tugging his shirt off with far less care.

As he undresses America ignores a buzzing at the back of his skull. God, can't he do anything without someone giving him a hard time? The fact that he is getting so much shit for this whole thing with Russia is really starting to wear on him and the last person he wants to hear it from is himself. He doesn't need to hear that small voice hissing that he better watch what he's doing, better not dare get in over his head. All he wants to do is watch Russia take off his goddamn pants. And Russia is happy to comply with his mute desire.

They look each other over. Russia hadn't been lying, definitely nyet on being fat. Sure is broad though. He has nice shoulders. They are perfect for cherry picking on, after all. Russia reaches down and strokes America's chest ever so lightly, breaking his thoughts. "You are quite beautiful Alfred."

"Well they don't call me America the beautiful for nothing." He smiles cockily then sits up and puts his arms around Russia, pulling him closer. Giving Russia's ear a small nibble he murmurs, "You don't look so bad yourself."

Oh, now that's nice. This is Russia's first time seeing America act this way and he rather likes it. He pushes America back down against the bed. Almost immediately his mouth is at America's throat, sucking and licking and nibbling. Gradually he moves lower, America shivering as he reaches a nipple.

"Mmm..." America watches him, curious to see what the Russian will do. He chews lightly on his bottom lip to keep too many excessive sounds from escaping.

Down his torso, pausing at America's bellybutton to gently tease it. A large hand caresses his thigh slowly and America squirms.

_Touch me more, please more. _Words that remain locked stubbornly behind America's lips.

The silence does not daunt Russia in the least. He spreads the legs of his lover-to-be a bit wider and starts to suck softly on his inner thigh. He has been wanting to give Alfred a mark here for a while. Perfect opportunity. There is the double bonus of a soft sigh from America. With a final nip he turns his attention to America's half-hardened cock, regarding it thoughtfully for a moment before giving it a generous lick. The younger nation shivers and arches slightly. With gentle nuzzles, light kisses, and more firm licks Russia teases him to full arousal.

He glances up at America, whose face is wonderfully flushed, and smiles mischievously. "I wonder, you have been so silent. Perhaps you do not want this after all milenky."

Damn, there's that malicious streak of his. "...N-no I..."

"Do speak up Alfred. I cannot hear you." Russia brushes his lips teasingly against his aching erection.

America claws at the covers. "Hn! I..." Why did he have to say it? Didn't they already talk about it? It is pretty clear what they are doing here. Russia is just a bastard. "...P-pozhaluysta!"

Ah...Russian. His pronunciation is a touch clumsy but there is nothing quite so sexy as hearing his native tongue coming from America's lips. And so without another teasing word Russia cheerfully obliges America's desires, taking him into his mouth.

As Russia begins to suck America groans loudly, head falling back and eyes sliding shut. The buzzing in his head, his troubled thoughts about Belarus and Japan, everything slips away for a while as he focuses on this single sensation of heat and pressure.

Some of the sounds that America has carefully locked away begin to slip out. Soft moans, gentle sighs. He lets them, some of his self-consciousness slipping away. It feels good. When is the last time he had a blow job? Not just a blow job, a really decent one to boot.

It isn't long before America is brought to the edge, whole body so hot he can barely stand it. "Ivan, I-mm, I'm about to-"

Russia abruptly increases to pressure of his sucking and America sees stars, his breath hitching sharply. A hand flies to his mouth to partially muffle a cry as his body trembles with shockwaves of pleasure. Russia swallows the evidence of America's lust and pulls away, looking at America keenly.

Gradually America's body relaxes, heartbeat slowing. He blinks up at Russia. "You didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to taste you," is the cheerful response.

"...That is so creepy." The words are half-hearted, an underlying satisfied note audible in his voice. "Still. Have to say, pretty good. Give me a moment and I'll get to you next."

"Take as much time as you need." As Russia waits for America to recover he pops a few mints, sucking on them until they dissolve. His eyes roam across America's body, memorizing and admiring it.

Finally America sits up, running a hand through his sweat dampened hair. "Okay!"

He all but pounces on Russia, traces of fatigue gone. Soon Russia finds himself sitting against the headboard, America sitting between his legs with a small smirk playing on his lips. With an unexpected gentleness he caresses Russia's cheek, thumb running lightly over the scratch Belarus had left. The hand falls to his neck, joined by its partner in its stroking, over the shoulders, fingers spread wide across his chest, briefly running along jutting hipbones... Peeling away the final article of clothing on Russia's body, America's cool hands are touching him, gently rubbing down his length. A small frown appears and America looks down. And stares. And continues to stare.

Russia is admittedly a little irritated at the extended, unexplained pause. "...Is something wrong Alfred?"

"That...is just disgusting."

For a moment Russia isn't sure what he can possibly mean. "Disgusting...?"

America turns a fierce glance up at him. "What the fuck, where do you get off being so freakishly big?"

Russia doesn't know what to say. "...Freakishly big? What...Oh." He is talking about _that._

"Damn right 'Oh'. They shouldn't even be allowed to come in that size!" America gives him what can only be described as a miffed look.

Russia giggles. "I would consider myself of average size."

America sits back. "A-average size? You have got to be kidding me!"

"Do you not remember the condoms you ordered from me during World War Two?"

Much to Russia's enjoyment he sputters incomprehensibly for a moment. "I wasn't...I mean I didn't...How was I supposed to know? ...And just what the hell are you trying to say about mine if that's the case?"

"Yours? I think it is very cute, just like you Alfred."

America gives him the absolute ugliest look that has perhaps existed in human history. "Cute?"

Russia blinks. "...Is that not a good descriptive word? But I am being honest."

"...Yeah this isn't happening." America starts to get off of Russia, who quickly seizes him.

"I am sorry, have I offended you? That was not my intention at all. But is unfair of you to stop now. After what I have done for you will you really just leave?" Russia seems more distressed than anything, which is the only thing that softens America.

Ego still stinging, America settles back into place. "Fine. But that...thing is not going near my mouth. You get a hand job."

Russia isn't about to irritate America further and protest, though he is a bit offended at having a part of his body spoken about like it is a monstrosity. With a reluctance born of a bruised ego, America's hands resume their task from before he had frozen.

Trying to make up for his unintended slight to America, Russia is generous in making noises of encouragement. It is not too terribly hard to do. It has been so long since someone has touched him in this way. And America's hands are both gentle and firm, seeming to know just when to be which to make it the most enjoyable.

Unlike Russia, America is not as interested in seeing the effect he has on the other nation. When he is being sexual with someone he likes to really put himself in the moment. It is not long before he is leaning forward, sealing Russia's lips with his own. He gives a sharp nip to the other's bottom lip in retaliation for his 'cute' comment then settles down into a rhythm of sorts. Hands stroking quickly, lightly, slowly, harder, his kisses hungry and wanting.

Russia is breathless, one hand buried in America's hair so he can occasionally pull him back to catch his breath. The young nation is merciless in his assault. Though as good as all of this is a part of him which he must restrain wants nothing more than to throw America down and fuck him senseless. It would not be so hard... but that would undoubtedly cause more damage than he might be able to repair and things... Things are finally smoothing out, going well between them. He can't let his impulses ruin this like they have in the past.

There is deep, silent, triumphant satisfaction for America as Russia's hips begin rocking up impatiently, soft grunts escaping him when his mouth is free. Sensing that he is near finishing, America speeds up the actions of his hands and pulls away just to see if Russia makes any really good noises when he comes. Instead he begins chewing lightly on his earlobe.

Russia shivers and pants, a hand resting firmly against the slightly sticky skin of America's back. "Alfred..." He can feel it, just needs a little more... His hips rock faster, nails now biting into soft flesh. With a final moan Russia climaxes, pulling America close as he lets it wash over him. Gradually his grip loosens and he lightly kisses America. "Thank you."

The words of gratitude are both amusing and sort of gratifying. "No problem. Fair is fair."

Russia strokes his hair, humming softly. They are silent, content. Finally Russia kisses the top of his head. "I am going to clean up briefly. I will be back."

America gets off of him, collapsing onto the bed. "M'kay."

He watches Russia get out of the bed then walk out the door. With a soft sigh he stretches out and nuzzles his pillow. It might be a little weird but he hopes when Russia comes back he won't mind cuddling a little bit. (Though god knows how he'll bring it up without sounding like a total idiot) America loves to cuddle after getting physically intimate on just about any level. He likes the warmth, the security, the closeness. That had killed him about Japan. Once they were done, except for on rare occasions, Japan had found the excessive hugging and intimacy undesirable.

It had been a bad idea to let his mind wander to Japan. Things he has pushed away start floating back to him. Now there is a tinge of worry, of doubt. Maybe doing that with Russia was a mistake. Is he still in control of the situation like he wants to think or is he merely playing into Russia's hands? What he wants and what Russia wants and what others expect of him blur the lines so that he doesn't even know what he really wants or how he feels anymore.

America buries his face in the pillow. '_Ivan Braginski, what have you done to me?'_

_

* * *

_

**Translations**:

milenky – dear/dearest

Pozhaluysta – please

**Character Note**:

America: Everything America stated as an interest/hobby in this chapter (other than dancing) is canon, I didn't make them up.

Russia: 1905, Bloody Sunday is a date which caused Russia to mentally crack and go on a killing spree. Though due to a very messed up historical background I can't say this is the first time Russia has gone insane (I very much doubt it).

**Pop Culture Note**:

"VinniPukh"- A Soviet Cartoon based on the popular Winnie-the-Pooh stories. It is three episodes long, each one about ten minutes. I thought they were adorable and hilarious all at once. They can be found on youtube.

**Historical Note**:

Loyalists: The percentage of white loyalists around the time of the American Revolution was about 20% and support for the patriots was about 45%. Everyone else tended to try and be neutral about the issue or were pacifists. (Lazy research haha)

The Romanov daughters: Nicholas II had four daughters (Olga, Tatiana, Maria, and Anastasia). I once saw someone make a comment on the fact that Russia must have had a complicated relationship with the Romanov family and I think that's probably true. When the Romanov family was turned on and shot by the very people who had been protecting them the girls did not immediately die because of the jewels sewn into their corsets (which were for protection and so the family would have money when they fled the country). The shooters were taken aback and somewhat horrified by what appeared to be the bullets bouncing off them. They tried to stab them with bayonets which also failed. Eventually they shot them in the head at close range.


	40. Chapter 40

So I apologize in advance. This chapter is lame. It's short, it took me forever to get out, and nothing important really happens. Next chapter will be better I promise -sighs-

* * *

When Russia returns to the room America still has his face buried against the pillow. He smiles curiously and slips into the bed, gently stroking his shoulder. "What are you doing Alfred?"

America rubs his face against the pillow then looks up at Russia. "Hibernating. What's it to you?"

Perplexed, Russia chuckles. "You are so odd."

America rolls his eyes and awkwardly tries to figure out how to bring up the subject of cuddling in a manly fashion. Russia puts an arm loosely around his waist, wondering what he's so preoccupied about.

Ah screw it. America scoots closer and wraps his arms around Russia, nuzzling his neck. Amused and pleased by the unexpectedly affectionate gesture, Russia wordlessly tightens his grip on the other, lightly tracing his fingers along his back. America closes his eyes and breathes in Russia's scent. He really is super comfortable. Giant teddy bear for sure.

They lie together in silence, neither feeling the need to speak. Russia continues to trace lazy patterns against America's skin. It's soothing and puts America into a sleepy mood, his thoughts once again taken off of more stressful subjects.

After some time passes and America is on the verge of falling asleep, Russia kisses his hair and murmurs softly, "This was not the only time, da?"

It takes America a moment to figure out what he means. Only time? Oh...to be intimate? He opens his eyes and stares blankly at nothing in particular, thinking. He pulls back a bit and looks at Russia, eyes filled with uncertainty and some confusion. They finally clear and he leans in, kissing Russia briefly. "No, I have a feeling this won't be the only time. Now if you don't mind I'm plumb tuckered out. Long day, don't you agree?"

Relief and a feeling of warmth goes through Russia and he kisses America back, a little more lingeringly. "Da. Sleep well Alfred."

"Mm," America closes his eyes, making himself comfortable against the Russian once more. He dwells on his words, on his decision. Maybe it's stupid to agree to continue on like this but America doesn't want it to be the last time. It's just sex...right? Or something close. And Russia likes cuddling. America misses cuddling.

_'I can't forget my purpose.'_

America frowns softly. His purpose...To fix Russia. But he isn't even getting close to Russia so much as he is getting close to Ivan. And Ivan definitely needs help and some guidance, but fixing? Maybe...maybe he-

He cuts his thoughts off. In a moment he's going to set off a big debate with himself and he doesn't want that right now. He forces it back for the time being. Plenty of time to figure things out later. His feelings, his purpose, his wants. He allows himself to be lulled once more into a sleepy state, drifting off peacefully.

Russia remains awake a good deal longer. He notes how America feels pressed firmly to his body, nude and pliant. The rise and fall of his chest against his own. If only, he wishes, there were some way to keep America all to himself. Block out the rest of the world which so distracts his young hero. Have him always like this... A lovely but unlikely dream. And he knows as nice as it would be for him, America would be quite miserable. Unfortunate, really, that he is so very fond of his freedom. Admittedly it is something he likes about him though. That fierce, untamable wildness.

"Vsyo, chto mne nuzhno, eto tvoya lyubov," he whispers softly. At long last he settles down, pulling the American just a little closer before drifting off to sleep.

~.

The next morning America awakens feeling refreshed and quite good. His body is still entwined with Russia's, their legs tangled and the other's arms firmly around his waist. For a while he keeps his eyes closed and remains in bed, content to stay as he is. Eventually he feels Russia stirring and opens his eyes.

"Morning. Making yourself comfortable I see."

Russia blinks at him sleepily then nuzzles his forehead with his own. "Of course, it is my earned right after all."

America snorts. "Earned right? Where did you get a thought like that from?"

Russia leans down and begins to kiss his shoulder lazily. "Mm, do not deny it Alfred. I have worked harder to get here then I am sure you have worked in your entire life."

"That is so not true you jerk!" He smacks Russia's back hard enough to leave a red mark but doesn't pull away.

Russia's hand wanders lower, running along his ass and the back of his thigh. "Are you hungry or would you like to start the day with some exercise?"

"Well isn't someone frisky first thing in the morning? And as for your question I would rather eat first, thanks. Morning workouts aren't really my thing." At least not that kind of exercise.

Russia leans in and nibbles on America's ear. "Oh, do not tell me that you are actually the very traditional type? Only indulging near or after dark, in a bed, missionary position? What was the term...Vanilla bean sex?"

"It's called vanilla sex, and no I am not!" Though admittedly Alfred's tastes often do curtail to the straighter laced side despite what some think, not counting a few rather wild phases in his history (particularly from the mid-1960s to early 70s).

Russia chuckles against his neck, biting gently. "I do look forward to finding out what type you are in bed."

"The kind who doesn't do morning kisses, likes to cuddle, and wants his goddamn breakfast. Now go before I starve to death."

Russia reaches up and pinches America's side sharply. "So rude. I doubt you know what starvation really is." His sisters know. _He_ knows.

As always, America gives the words little thought. "No it's true, I'll waste away into nothingness right before your eyes. Do you hear that sound? It is like a stomach grumbling, but that is actually my body digesting itself at a rapid rate! And stop pinching me, damn it!"

Giving him another pinch, Russia sits up, disentangling himself from the young nation. "Well, while admittedly I am quite interested in seeing this phenomenon I will restrain my curiosity. Do not linger in bed too long. I will not alert you to when breakfast is done. You must come out and get it if you do not wish for it to be cold."

Running his fingers through golden locks simply because he can, Russia gets out of the bed and grabs his pants from the day before and tugging them up. America watches him go and hugs his pillow, closing his eyes for a moment.

Well...that had been a disgustingly mushy moment shared between them. What the hell? That is practically the equivalent of the world ending. Something is seriously wrong with this picture. Him and Ivan—_Russia_—being so cozy together and acting...well, as if they actually really like one another. Maybe...maybe they really do like each other...? There's a thought. Well obviously he is starting to like Ivan but...he keeps getting the sneaking feeling that he might really, really like him. When did that happen? And what the hell is his brain doing thinking that isn't just the most fucked up thing ever?

Questions to think about later. The list is getting longer but he ignores the fact. For a little while at least he wants to see how it goes, see how his feelings pan out. He should probably get up before the little woman gets his panties in a twist over breakfast.

That mental image flashes vividly in America's mind and sits for a moment. At first he is somewhat disturbed. And then he begins laughing loudly, pressing his face into the pillow. Oh god, why is it so hilarious to imagine Russia doing weird things? Once his sides thoroughly hurt and his face aches he calms himself and slides out of bed. He grabs some fresh boxers and throws them on before heading to the living room.

The first thing he does is turn his phone back on. A few text messages and voice mails involving work. Damn he's glad Russia had turned it off. He still has to call Belarus's boss. That should be awesome. Not.

Dialing a number, he talks briefly about a matter that will need his attention later that week. It sounds exceptionally boring. He walks into the kitchen, watching Russia cook as he promises that he won't forget and go out to play laser tag—yes he really, really promises this time.

Conversation complete, he hangs up and puts his phone on the table, walking up to peek at what is cooking. For a second he is tempted to press up against Russia and rest his chin on his shoulder. But that would be a really couple-y thing to do. And Russia is just tall enough that it won't come off as really smooth. Bastard. Spiteful tart. Him and his monster- He doesn't even want to think about it. He leans on the counter next to him instead. "What's cooking, Doc?"

"I am in no way a doctor and can't imagine why you are implying that I am. And I am making an omelet, if that is acceptable." Russia raises an eyebrow inquiringly without looking at him.

"No it's fine. And I didn't mean you're actually a- forget it." Sometimes Russia's lack of understanding of his awesome pop culture is shockingly and horrifically apparent. So long as they're going to start spending more time together on actually cordial terms—because they will be and have been, he realizes suddenly—then he'll be sure to educate him properly.

Acting like an impatient, obnoxious kid, he bugs Russia by being in his way. Not sure if he is more amused or annoyed, Russia finally orders him to make coffee. It preoccupies him long enough for Russia to finish his breakfast.

Putting the omelet on a plate, he hands it to America before pouring himself a cup of coffee. America waits impatiently then pours a cup as well before carrying both to the table. He eats happily as Russia sips the hot liquid. Huh. Their first morning-after breakfast. Much less awkward then a lot of others he's had. And why does he keep thinking about lame things like that?

Russia tilts his head, putting his coffee down. "Why do you keep on looking at me like that?"

The words jolt America and he stabs his omelet, fork making a grating sound on the plate. "Like what?"

The small smile on Russia's face gets a decidedly smirky look to it. "Like you want to kiss me."

"I am not looking at you like that!" He cuts off a piece of his omelet and eats it agitatedly. He so is not looking at him like he wants to kiss him. That would be gross anyway. Coffee, eggs, and morning breath? No thanks.

Russia giggles, giving him one of those somewhat smug looks of his. America determinedly ignores him. Just as America has finished and is putting his plate and coffee cup in the sink his phone begins to ring. Such is his life. He groans. "Who is it now?"

Russia's eyes flicker down to the phone. The coffee mug rests against his bottom lip for a moment before he pulls it away, expression darkening. America raises his eyebrows. "Hello? Who is it? Damn it."

Hurrying over to answer, Russia picks it up before he gets a chance to even see who it is. "Privyet."

America frowns. Russia looks pissed. "Who-"

Russia holds up a hand to silence him. "You sound so surprised to hear my voice. I wonder why that is? Surely it is not because you truly did have something to do with my sister coming to find me? ...I take your pause of silence to be confirmation that you did in fact have a hand in that. Well Japan, this is quite uncomfortable, yes, quite awkward indeed. Who do you think you are to use my sister? When I get my hands on you I will break every bone in your body systematically before I peel the skin off your-"

"Whoa!" Super crazy mode going off like mad. America snatches the phone away from Russia, glaring at him for a moment. "Hello, Kiku?"

There is a pause and America thinks he must have hung up. Then hesitantly, "America-san."

A wave of anger goes through America. "Yeah, that's my name. Have something to say for yourself there buddy? I don't really appreciate having psycho siblings set loose on my house or on me."

Another long pause of silence but no dial tone. "You going to fucking talk to me or what Kiku?"

"Ah...I..." More silence.

"Talk, damn it! Say something already!"

This time there is a sharp click and pure silence. "Damn it Kiku..." He tries calling back and gets voice mail after it rings for a long time. "So he's not going to talk to me?"

Russia continues to glare at the phone. "You should have let me continue, I was just getting to the interesting part."

America really has to talk to Japan, sort all this out. And while he, for once, completely feels that Russia's intense psychotic rage is justified he hardly wants him acting out his threats on Japan. "You need to calm down Ivan. I know you're pissed and I don't blame you in the least. But I don't want you going around trying to kill or maim or break people."

"And why not? He manipulated my sister, put you in harms way, gave away my location. I think a few hours time, I could guarantee he would not interfere in our business again."

"...Has it ever occurred to you that saying things like that might be exactly why he did all of that?"

Russia gives him an annoyed look. "And now you are defending him?"

"What? No! I mean, I'm just saying...Look. That's not what I'm trying to do. I'm just saying your reaction is way too strong. You can't threaten him like that. It could cause problems."

"I am not allowed to retaliate for his actions? Surely you must be joking Alfred. I will not sit by and allow him to get away with-"

America stops him. "Look, please, let me deal with it?"

Russia's expression does not soften in the least. "Nyet. It was my sister, Alfred."

"Yeah well it was my house she destroyed, me she threatened, and it's my friend we're talking about. You aren't going near him! I can handle this, got it?"

"Why is it that my acquaintances are nothing but pleasant and all of yours are incredibly nasty and you won't let me deal with them even though they are all violently opposed to our union?"

"I don't know Ivan, why do you have to be related to a crazy girl and go about falling in love in the craziest, most stalkerish ways possible?"

The two glare at each other for a moment. Russia finally stands angrily. "Fine. Deal with Japan. You get a single chance. If he so much as speaks to my sisters again or interferes one more time I will personally handle him and nothing you can say will stop me."

With that he leaves the room, visually agitated. Nothing like a cheery moment like that to remind him that it will never be all roses with Russia no matter what the extent of the relationship is. Japan is going to keep them apart after all if this continues. The pressure causes a wave of resentment towards the man he usually likes very much.

Calling Japan's phone again, he leaves a message telling him he is coming to his house and that he damn well better be there when he arrives. He quickly makes some plans using maybe just a little influence to get a flight that he can just catch if he leaves within the next half hour.

Not speaking to Russia, who looks like he is getting ready to make some calls anyway, America takes a quick shower and dresses, throwing a small travel bag together. He pauses and looks hard at Russia despite the fact he is obviously having a conversation with someone (probably from his government from the sound of it). "I'm leaving. I swear to god, you stay here and don't take any actions against Japan. None. If you do you are getting the worst ass kicking of your life."

Russia puts a hand over the mouthpiece of the phone, giving America a tight smile. "Da, Alfred. I will restrain myself."

Pointing warningly at Russia, America leaves the house and catches a cab. He really hopes Russia doesn't do anything. He doesn't have the time or patience to handle it. And as pissed as he is at Japan, there is a protectiveness there. Russia has no right to chew him out, and definitely not to hurt him as far as he's concerned.

The plane ride to Japan seems to take an eternity and gives America an uncomfortably long time to worry over a variety of issues. Concerning Japan. Concerning Russia. All he wants is for it to be that morning again, still wrapped in Russia's embrace and feeling comfortable and warm.

~.

Russia finishes a few work related calls, still furious. America is so foolish sometimes. Nothing he does will be as effective as what Russia could do. Oh how he dislikes Japan... Without even being there he had set America and Russia back a step. That is what is most dangerous about Japan. That is why Russia is anxious to permanently remove him as a competitor or an obstacle for Alfred's love.

Brooding, Russia contemplates putting a curse on Japan. Something much stronger than a mere stomach ache.

* * *

Translations:

Vsyo, chto mne nuzhno, eto tvoya lyubov – All I need is your love

Privyet – Hello (casual)

Cultural Note:

"What's cooking, Doc?" - Meant to be a reference to Bugs Bunny

1960s/1970s - Hippie era was in here

**AN: **So I'm sure right now a few of you are irritated at America's attitude but he's beginning to figure things out so regard him kindly. And wouldn't it be kind of hilarious if America went to Japan's house, realized he was madly in love with him, and they had crazy sex? No one would expect it, would they?

Kidding~


	41. Chapter 41

Sorry for once again taking a while to get a chapter out but I was actually pretty busy preparing for an anime convention I went to over Labor Day Weekend. The skit my group and I performed won first place in the Journeyman category and I couldn't be happier~ (I swear some force of nature did not want us to perform it but we did and god damn it was beautiful! -shakes fist-)

But I am pleased with this chapter so I hope you like it too~

* * *

As long as the flight to Japan had felt time seems to zoom by as America fights his way through the crowded streets of Tokyo, exhausted and ruffled. All too soon it feels he is standing in front of Kiku's house. Frowning for a long moment at the doors, America finally knocks sharply. A long pause follows. Frown deepening, America knocks harder. Still nothing.

Grunting with irritation, America tries one of the doors. It comes open easily and he steps inside. The house is quiet as America goes further in. Something brushes against his leg and he glances down. Tama looks up at him, eyes dilating to slits as he meows. Smiling a bit, America reaches down and picks up the cat, cradling it in his arms as he strokes its chin.

"Hey there Tama, your master in?" He asks almost solemnly.

With another meow Tama struggles in America's arms and he lets him jump down. He trots down the hall and America follows all the way to Kiku's bedroom, which is closed up. He scratches at the door, letting out an impatient meow that inquires how his insensitive owner can possibly lock him out.

Bingo. America walks over to the door and knocks. There is once again no response. Feeling rather impatient and irritated, America barges in. The cat rushes in and immediately jumps onto the foot of the bed, making itself comfortable with a wide yawn.

The bed itself is empty. Next to it a tatami mat has been laid out on the floor and there is a figure bundled up and hidden on it. Sighing, America walks over to the now trembling lump. He crouches down wondering how long Japan has been like this.

"I can see you, you know." The figure stiffens but does nothing more. Anger wells up in America. "Cut it out already! I'm not going to leave until we talk and I'm in no mood to play around."

After a long pause Japan hesitantly pulls the blanket off of his head. He does not meet America's gaze as he sits up. "...Welcome America-san."

America snorts. "Don't give me that crap Kiku. What the hell, man? How could you send Belarus to my house? She caused a lot of damage. I don't really appreciate it. What were you even thinking? If you were thinking at all."

Japan lowers his head. "I... I was only trying to help you America-san."

America gives him an incensed look. "Help me what, get sliced into ribbons? How was that supposed to be helpful?"

Japan's eyebrows knit together and he frowns softly. "...Forgive me for speaking out of turn but...You are making a horrible mistake America-san! I was merely trying to assist you in removing the problem. It was completely in your interest."

"In my interest? And when the hell did everyone start deciding they know what's best for me? That's pretty fucking presumptuous! And even if you were, do you really think it's okay using Ivan's sister like that? She's crazy as fuck but she's not some tool so you don't have to dirty your own hands. That's messed up to say the least. I thought you were a lot more honorable than that Kiku."

Clenching his hands into fists, Japan lowers his head further. "...And shall I commit harakiri for my wrongs? Wrongs against a monster? No. I will bow down and apologize in any fashion you wish me to for injuries against yourself Alfred-san, but I am not sorry for what I have done against Russia-san and I never shall be."

"Is anything he did to you really so awful you're that bitter? Don't make me laugh. Russia, Japan, America, they're all monsters. All of our kind have monsters in us Kiku and you know it as well as I do. Don't pretend he's the only one. And has anything he done ever been as horrible, as unforgivable as what I did to you?"

The two are silent for a moment. Both think of the burns on Japan's back. Ones that America would sometimes run his hands over again and again when they were intimate, as if he could erase them if he only tried hard enough. How Japan had loathed the pathetic act. Their taboo subject. The thing America can never quite forget and that Japan can never quite forgive.

Japan finally speaks softly. "It is not about whose wrongs are the greatest America-san. We have made our peace for better or worse. Russia-san is a very dangerous man and he has been attempting to manipulate you from the beginning. Perhaps my actions were extreme but I am trying to protect you. I am trying to help you see the forest for the trees."

Metaphors, America sure hates metaphors. "While I do appreciate your concern, much like I appreciate everyone else's, I can handle this. Everyone keeps treating me like I'm some stupid five-year-old! And you know...Ivan isn't such a bad guy when you get past the crazy. He's..."

"He's what? He's an excellent liar and he is trying to trick you. I am afraid to say it seems to be working." Japan finally lifts his gaze, dark flat eyes meeting his almost coolly.

"Stop it already! Would you just...I'm not asking you to like him Kiku. Hate him for all I care. I don't even want you to pretend to be nice or anything. Things are changing and I want to figure them out so...All I'm asking is that you back off a bit."

"...So you are forming some sort of...relationship with him now? Another friend with benefits America-san?" Sometimes Japan's eyes can seem so cold.

"I dunno, maybe...I haven't quite figured out what we're gonna be yet. What does it matter anyway? Isn't that my business? It's not like the two of us have even hooked up for a while. You haven't wanted to."

After a moment Japan reaches out and touches his hand gently. "And if I...asked you now? After all, you are hardly in an exclusive relationship, correct?"

Flushing, America snatches his hand away. "All things considered I don't exactly feel like sleeping with you right now."

Japan sits back, tucking his knees beneath him. "You would not take me up on the offer even if you were not angry at me. You are such a bleeding heart America-san. Are you sure you aren't just interested in swooping in to save the proverbial maiden in distress? If that is what you wish to do it will only end badly. The butterfly that falls into the spider's web cannot change its captor's heart."

Spiders, butterflies, what the hell is Japan talking about? "Kiku...Look. I know it's weird. I know it's probably even dangerous and maybe stupid. But I really have started to see Ivan in a different light. Maybe I am making a horrible mistake. But life isn't very fun without the risks. Not for me. Don't I have a right to make my own mistakes? As my friend you have warned me. And as my friend you get to say 'I told you so' if it falls apart. Maybe even help me up off my ass if you're feeling generous. But that's enough. Please. What is more important to you? Your hatred of Russia or your friendship with me?"

A small sigh escapes Japan. "I think you are being a fool. I will never accept whatever you have with Russia-san. Whether it is merely a friendship or if you become...become lovers. But you are my friend America-san, and I do wish to act honorably. If it means so much to you I will refrain from future actions against Russia-san. Know that I am here to support you should you come to realize your folly. And I am sincerely sorry from the bottom of my heart for injuries against you due to my actions."

Japan bows forward then straightens up, not looking particularly happy. Tama yawns and stretches, jumping from the bed and curling up on his lap. Japan strokes his silky head. "America-san... I...I do wish things were different. Then perhaps you wouldn't be in this mess at all."

America sits back, folding his legs. He says nothing at first. If things were different...If there wasn't that silence between them. But there is and both of them are very aware of it. Like something smothering should they come too close. Once America had tentatively asked Japan a question and he had said no even though he had wanted to say yes. And that was okay. That had been a while ago and he had assumed both of them had gotten past it. "There's no time to worry about the past Kiku. That's what Ivan is starting to make me think."

Japan scratches his cat behind the ear. "We cannot escape the bonds of the past any more than we can escape our futures, Alfred-san."

"Well, we sure as hell can give it the old college try can't we? At the very least we can dream. And dreams are my specialty." Sometimes they are all he has.

Japan looks at America for a long moment. He is so young. Sometimes it is hard, even painful to watch him make decisions, try to figure things out. There are times he must remind himself of the other's youth and times in which it is very apparent. Now feels like the latter. Though Japan privately admits to himself he's not quite sure how much of what he feels is his deep hatred for Russia, a very real concern for his friend, and jealousy.

"Dreams are insubstantial Alfred-san. No one should know this better than you." The words are delicately put, not meant to be an insult so much as a reminder.

"No, dreams themselves aren't substantial, but under the right circumstances they can be turned into something substantial. I have seen many dreams come crashing down, totally dashed, disappear into thin air. But I have seen just as many become reality. And that is so beautiful Kiku."

The words are surprisingly striking and it takes Japan a moment to ask his next question. "If that's true then why are you afraid?"

"Afraid? I dunno what you mean." America shifts uncomfortably.

"Yes you do Alfred-san. I am your friend but I cannot and will not put everything bluntly for your sake. If you choose to continue on with Russia-san you will run head first into it. I hope you are aware of this and are prepared. It can be hardest of all to face the enemies within ourselves. And pretending something doesn't exist will not work if you are exposing yourself to it."

"...I find you rather poetic today Kiku. I still have no idea what you mean." But he does. In the pit of his stomach he does. But he doesn't have to worry about it. Japan is misunderstanding everything. That's all.

Meeting America's gaze again, Japan shakes his head gently. He has tried his best in his own way to save America but it seems the other will merely have to learn his own lessons. Perhaps it is for the best after all. It might help America grow up a little bit. Whether it be from learning not to let himself get burned by his own impetuousness or by finally facing some of his inner demons, it might be beneficial.

Japan tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, the gesture oddly elegant. "America-san, I have been so very rude. I have not offered you anything. Would you care for tea? Perhaps some mochi?"

America is relieved that the conversation seems to be over. There is still some irritation that hasn't worked itself out yet but he seems to have won. He thinks (and hopes, no, prays) that Japan is done interfering. The last thing he needs is for him to give Russia a reason to go nuts on him. Which he most certainly is ready to do at a moment's notice. "You know I never care much for tea but mochi sounds good to me."

Scooping up Tama into his arms, Japan stands. "Very well, I shall go prepare it. Perhaps you would care for coffee?"

"Mm, yeah alright. Before the mochi, not with it."

America gets to his feet less gracefully and follows the other out of the room. Japan's body language speaks of his own pent up frustration, opposition. But Japan will keep his silence and America is already thinking of the incident in past tense. That is a great thing about Japan. Even if something bugs him he can keep it to himself. Unless Russia does something crazy Japan probably won't make mention of it. In fact Japan intends to shun the very name of his hated acquaintance. But America had asked him a question and in the end their friendship meant so much more to Japan than his hatred for Russia. And he knows when to make compromises even when they are painful ones.

~.

The longer Russia stares at the clock the more frustrated he becomes. Why hasn't America contacted him yet? From his estimation the other should have arrived and had plenty of time to clear things up with that damned Japan. Yet he hasn't received so much as a text. And to make matters more irritating America's cellphone isn't on. The only time he seems to think to turn the thing off.

Russia is getting restless waiting. Too much time has passed. His fingers twitch as he imagines Japan touching America, inviting him to do lewd things and the idiot letting himself get talked into it. Why had he let America go by himself?

No, it's too much. Russia pulls out his phone and dials a number. It rings a few times before a cheerful voice answers. "Ciao Russia! It's been a while! How are you?"

While usually Russia would be pleased to be greeted in such a friendly fashion, he is far too preoccupied to appreciate it. "Privyet Italy. You are friends with Japan. Hypothetically would you know what his weaknesses are? Or perhaps any intense fears he might have? Any phobias?"

If Italy could see the intense, terrifying look on Russia's face he wouldn't have laughed. But he can't see it and so he does. "What? What's this about? Um...I don't know. Why are you asking? Ooh is it like a game? Hypothetically like...like a question? Do you get a prize?"

While Russia truly likes Italy and has gotten some very good advice from him on many an occasion he finds him frustratingly unhelpful in that moment. "Da, a prize. A game. Now tell me."

"Ve...You know I'm not sure... One second... Hey Ludwig! What are Japan's weaknesses? Russia gets a prize if he answers correctly!"

There is a pause of silence—presumably Germany speaking—which Russia uses to further acquaint his palm to his forehead. For future reference he will strictly ask Italy for social and romance help. The kindly Italian is missing the point entirely.

"Um...uh...Ludwig says I'm not allowed to tell you...I'm sorry! I guess America might know. Why don't you ask him? Oh...Oooooh. Russia, are you really playing a game or are you calling 'cause America and Japan are so close?"

Admittedly Russia is incredibly impressed that Italy actually figured it out. "Perhaps that has something to do with it. I merely need something to let Japan know to keep his distance."

Like a painful death or maiming or a traumatizing experience.

"That's silly! They're only friends. But um...One sec." There is a pause of silence again. Italy speaks in a somewhat hushed voice. "Ah, okay. So...I understand if you're jealous...I was really jealous of Prussia so I know how you feel. Um...But isn't what really matters the fact that you're the one he's with?"

It is a good point but the problem is Russia _isn't _with America. Not really. Nothing so solid as what he has lead Italy (and a good deal of the world) to believe. That isn't good enough for him when America could easily be with Japan in bed at that very moment. This whole thing is making him miserable and he doesn't like it.

"...Da. Thank you Italy. I am overreacting." He will simply have to think of something on his own.

"No problem Russia! I hope things are going well though? We haven't talked as much lately with everything happening. I've been kinda wrapped up with Ludwig I guess." Russia can hear that glow of happiness in Italy's voice that he so longs for himself. It further sours his mood.

"I..." There is suddenly a beep and Russia pulls his phone back. His eyes widen a bit as he sees it is America. "I am very sorry Italy, I must go. Alfred is calling."

"Oh! No problem, talk to you later!"

The words are barely said then Russia switches over to his other call. "Alfred, why has it taken you so long to contact me?"

"Eh? Sorry, sorry. Um, I'm at the Tokyo airport right now. My flight is going to be here soon. Everything is all squared away with Kiku so he shouldn't be bugging you or your sisters or anything." America made sure to emphasize to Japan over mochi and coffee that he shouldn't even so much as glance in Belarus's or Ukraine's direction if he wants to keep his head.

Russia tightens his grip on the phone. "And I am supposed to believe this? That he is giving up so easily? I do not trust him."

"And he doesn't trust you further than he could throw your giant body, but he's good at keeping his word. I trust him, that should be good enough for you."

"It is hardly good enough for me! You are biased Alfred. How can you be sure-"

America sounds irritated. "I just am, okay? God, give me some credit! Give anyone some credit for once. Jeez."

Russia sidesteps the sharp comment altogether by turning things back on America. "What did the two of you talk about? Did he try anything with you?"

America sighs. "He offered me his body dipped in chocolate and topped with whip cream, Ivan. Of course he didn't!" He won't count that pseudo attempt, nor so much as mention it ever. "Why are you so jealous over everyone? It's totally insane! There's not even a reason for it! I mean, I chose you, didn't I?"

America seems just as startled by the words as Russia. "Er...I mean, y'know...I didn't...Not that this was about choosing anyone! Look, I did what I said I would and you just...Shut up!"

Russia can almost hear the blush in America's words, which in turn sends a warm feeling through Russia. He smiles and his tone softens. "I did not say anything Alfred."

"Yeah well...Whatever. You know what I mean. So you're going to leave Kiku alone or I'll seriously kick your ass. I know what he did was a dick thing and I haven't fully forgiven him yet but I don't want you doing anything to him."

"I will keep my promise. So long as he keeps good on his word I will restrain myself from injuring him in one fashion or another." It will be difficult but hearing America say those words makes it seem more possible.

"Ugh...Well...good I guess. Look, I gotta go board in about ten minutes. I have to get going now. I just wanted to...To check in with you. Make sure you know not to go into psycho mode again. So...Yeah. I'm coming home."

"What flight are you on? I will meet you at the airport."

"That isn't-"

"I will meet you." Grumbling, America tells him his flight information. "Thank you. Safe travels lapushka. I cannot wait to hold you again."

"...You sound so damn sappy. I'll see you soon-ish. Bye...Vanya." America hangs up on him before he can respond.

Smile widening for a second, Russia hangs up and puts his phone away. America chose him...Yes he likes the sound of that very much. And like that his bad mood melts away.

Far away America leans his head against cool glass, waiting to be called for boarding. His face is bright red. Why does he have to say such embarrassing things sometimes? His eyes follow a plane on the runway. From behind him he is aware of someone announcing boarding. He lingers a moment as the plane becomes airborne. Finally he turns away, ticket clenched firmly in his hand.

The future is not a trap, it is an opportunity, an adventure. Anticipation and anxiety bubbling in his stomach, America decides to meet it in stride, no matter what it might throw at him. He's ready for it.

* * *

Translations:

Lapushka - little paw (cutest endearment EVAR)

Tama is Japan's cat from the Nekotalia strips.

**AN: **Someone once noted that America and Russia have a lot of their important conversations on the phone. It's true...But when I thought about it I think it's fitting. Phones are really impersonal because all they are is a voice, but they allow you to reach over impossibly far distances. Almost a metaphor for those two.

And with the end of this chapter we are entering what I consider the final arc of this story~ I am going to estimate that there will be no more than ten chapters left but we'll see how that goes.


	42. Chapter 42

Congrats to ham'n'nanners my 1,700th reviewer and PineappleBoxers. my 1,600th reviewer!

* * *

When America gets off the plane all he wants to do is fall into bed and never get out. His earlier enthusiasm has died down a bit, making way for a strong desire to sleep. Too much traveling for too many totally not awesome reasons lately. It's starting to wear on him. Sighing softly he heads to baggage claim, vaguely surprised that Russia hasn't popped out and-

Two arms wrap around his waist, a kiss pressed to the back of his neck. Alfred stiffens and lets out a yelp that captures the attention of an embarrassing amount of people. He elbows his assailant and whirls around. "What do you think you're doing, trying to humiliate me and give me a heart attack at the same time?"

Russia grabs America's face and plants a kiss firmly on his lips, not particularly concerned about the odd looks they are now receiving. "Welcome back Alfred!"

America sputters and shoves Russia away, flustered by the assault. By now he should be used to it, should expect it even but he's too out of it to deal with the sexual harassment. "Right, right, please don't be so handsy. I'm exhaaauusted. I'm gonna sleep forever, this time I mean it!"

Of course Russia ignores him (as always) and slips an arm around his waist, tugging him forwards. "It was a long flight I am sure, but you are back now. I am so glad that you have neutralized the problem."

Why does he have to say it like that? Makes it sound like he had killed Japan or something. "Yeah, I took care of it. Talked to Kiku, cleared things up more or less. Though I can't understand a word that guy says when he uses all that flowery language."

"More or less...?" Russia doesn't particularly like that wording. "Is Japan going to leave us alone or not Alfred? I told you what will happen if he doesn't."

It had taken a while but Russia has finally figured out the perfect curse to place on Japan should he continue to be a problem. Which of course would follow a few acts of physical trauma just to drive home his point.

Ugh, not this again... America reaches up and pinches his cheek hard. "And don't forget what I said I would do if you did go after him. And he will, okay? He's not...He was just concerned about me. And like, he's not going to be super accepting of any of this but he won't spring traps or anything."

"Hmph." Russia still wants to hurt the smaller nation. He is such a distraction to Alfred. Russia leans over and kisses his ear lightly. "I should hope not for his sake."

America tries to wave him away. "Seriously, why are you being so lovey dovey while saying such creepy things? It's very disconcerting!"

Russia doesn't see how he is being creepy in the least. "I am not saying anything creepy, I am merely stating the facts. And why should I not be affectionate with you? I like when people know that you are mine."

The possessive shit again, it's really grating for America. Reminds him of how England had been right before he broke away, with a lot more creepy factor and underlying sexual tension piled on top. "I am not yours, why do you say things like that? Do I look like a hat or something? The only way I could belong to you, which would never happen like ever, is if you were delving in highly illegal and immoral activities such as human trafficking and I totally wouldn't be interested in spending time with you if that was the case."

His America does love to ramble so very much. "Why would you compare yourself to an accessory? I have never stated interest in wearing you, particularly not on my head."

"That's not what I was getting at! I mean the only real hat is Matthew, who is mine. But that's beside the point! Notice that thing you do where you focus in on something not important so you can avoid the point I am trying to make? Yeah, you do that. All the time. It's annoying. I am not your property in any way, just like I would never claim to own you."

Russia blinks and stares at him for a moment then takes his hand and tugs on it, tilting down so their faces are close. "I would not mind if you said it so long as it was only in the context of a relationship."

It is America's turn to stare. "...Seriously? What the hell Ivan? Come on you're killing me here. You don't mean that. I bet if I ever said I owned you you'd bust my lip open."

"Mmm well I do not think I would, though I cannot guarantee anything. Try it sometime and we can find out together." Russia gives his hand a small squeeze.

"...Right. Awesome. Next time I'm in the mood to battle- Why do you keep changing the subject anyway? I want you to stop saying things like I belong to you!"

Russia pauses again and seems almost irritated with him. "You said you chose me."

A blush immediately colors America's cheeks and he looks away. "I...I didn't mean like...What does that have to do with...I mean, it's like...When I said that I meant..."

Russia's smile shrinks to nearly the status of a straight line. "What _did_ you mean by it?"

America finds himself floundering. Those words had sort of popped out without his permission, he can hardly believe he had said them. "I...I mean...I'm supporting you in this Ivan! I've chosen to explore...explore something between us and I've been defending you left and right since I made that decision and then you do these things that make me wonder if I'm not being an idiot after all and really making a mistake and...and do we have to do this in public?"

People are staring. The straight line of Russia's lips curves decidedly into a frown. "The setting does not matter. Are you saying that I am doing something that makes you question your decision?"

"No shit I'm saying that, and yes the setting matters!" This is getting awkward. America grabs Russia's arm and pulls him off to the side where they at least aren't center stage of every single person walking through the area. Once they are against a wall America lowers his voice and resumes the painful discussion. "I don't like it okay? I don't like being claimed like I belong to anyone but myself. And I don't like how jealous you act even though I haven't done a single thing that should make you jealous. And I really don't appreciate you threatening the people I care about. Even if you don't like them it doesn't give you a right to act so freakin' crazy over me!"

"Can you blame me for being so irritated? Your friends and family have been quite the annoyance in this whole process."

"Oh like your sister isn't? At least Kiku and Arthur haven't tried to stab you to death! And you...you haven't done anything! I've dealt with everyone and you can't even handle your baby sister! She's not even that scary, she just acts all crazy around you, and yes it is around you specifically because I've been around her one on one and she's been fine. I have been working my ass off and you... you just... All you've done is acted all insane and somehow convinced me to give this a shot and brought all these problems down on my head! What have you done to prove you care about this? For all I know it's still a big fucking science experiment for you!" America hadn't realize he was even holding that all in but he feels better now that he's said it. He glares up at Ivan expectantly.

"I do not know how you can imply such a thing. I have bent over backwards to work towards a relationship with you. Perhaps my methods have been crude at times but it is a legitimate effort. And how can I not be jealous? Especially of Japan, who you have had prior relations with. He has gotten further with you than I have and has maintained a steadier relationship with you for a long period of time. I am not supposed to feel threatened?"

America pauses as an older couple passes by then speaks, forcing his voice to be calm. "I can understand being...being insecure or something I guess...But threatening to like, beat him and break his bones and...It's way over the top. How can I convince you that he really is not even vaguely a threat to you?"

Russia looks at America for a long moment then pushes him somewhat violently against the wall, knee pressing between his legs as he leans down to kiss the younger nation fiercely. America stiffens uncertainly, completely taken off guard. Russia licks America's lips then presses his mouth to his ear. "Ya hochu tebya attrahat'."

The words take a moment to process and when they do America flushes bright red. Irritated, he clenches his teeth and pushes Russia back, following it with a punch to his jaw. "Get the fuck off me!"

As America storms off Russia rubs his jaw and hurries after him, grabbing his arm roughly once he catches up. "And why not? You have slept with Japan and while we are in this state of being...'friends with benefits' you will not have sex with me."

A few people turn to give them more strange looks and America tugs his arm away from Russia. "Shush already, would you? Scream it to the world why don't you? Oh wait, you already did when you sent out that goddamn fax that practically started this whole mess to begin with! And I don't need to justify why I do or do not want to have sex with you, Ivan! It's not like I wouldn't ever but when you act this way...you're just being an asshole and I don't want to! And why is it that when something bothers you it never dies and you just keep pushing it until the breaking point but you never answer my questions or respond to what I'm trying to get at? It's what I was mentioning earlier! It's just...I can't do this if it's not going to be more balanced between us!"

America rubs his forehead as Russia looks down at him silently. "...I just can't okay? So... think about that for a while or something and get off my case. I'm tired."

Another moment of dead silence passes between them. America adjusts his glasses and shoves his hands into his pockets. With a vague shrug of his shoulders he starts walking towards the exit again. He senses more than sees or hears Russia falling into step behind him.

It's not like he's trying to be moody but sometimes Russia comes off too strong for him. This whole thing is filling him with anxiety anyway. He doesn't want to be played with then left looking like the fool. And while he does acknowledge the fact that Russia has made some definite efforts on his part to improve his behavior, a majority of their relationship up to this point is derived from the fact that Russia kept pushing and pushing until America... Is he just caving under pressure? Visiting Japan had seemed to clear up so many feelings for him but suddenly he is being submerged in doubt. He keeps wondering if Japan will ever be catty enough to actually say 'I told you so' or if he'll be able to read it in the other's eyes.

_I am just trying to fix him anyway. Why get so hung up on these ridiculous emotions?_

Ridiculous...Is he still trying to fix Russia? No...No he isn't. It doesn't feel like it anyway. More than anything it feels like he's the one being broken, piece by piece. Exposed, becoming vulnerable. It scares him.

The two mutely leave the airport and catch a cab back to his house. America stares out the window the whole way. Every once and a while he can see Russia's reflection against the glass watching him. He pretends not to see and shifts in his seat.

When they enter the house America tosses his bag aside. "I'm going to go lay down." He finds himself pausing to hear a response from Russia but doesn't get one. Without so much as a backward glance (though he's tempted) he escapes to his room. Damn he hates always being stared at by all the sunflowers. Collapsing onto the bed, he turns his back to them and kicks off his shoes. Gently putting Texas aside America buries his face in a pillow and tries to fall asleep.

~.

Russia stares at the chessboard he has set up, eyes roaming over each side carefully before he moves a white pawn. After another thoughtful pause he moves a black knight. Russia likes this game. He knows the rules, how each piece works, when it is best to take pieces and when it is best to lose them. Chess is a game he can easily win.

With a serious expression he brings his white pieces in for the kill, defending with black. This game he understands well... It is this new 'game' he is playing that confuses him. He does not know the rules or the proper way to 'play'. Every time he feels confident that he is closing in on a victory it slips through his fingers and leaves him perplexed. It is hard and overly frustrating. And yet the vague notion to scrap his current partner and try playing with someone else, perhaps a logical move, is violently rejected.

Checkmating the black king, Russia flicks it over listlessly. This new game hurts...Why does it hurt so much? It didn't use to. Russia doesn't get it at all. If only America would see how much he _is _trying, even if he doesn't think that he is.

~.

After slipping in and out of sleep for about an hour America turns onto his back and stares blankly at the ceiling. He wants to talk to someone... But Japan and England are sort of out of the question all things considered. Who else could he possibly...Oh yeah.

America digs through his pocket and dials a number, brushing his hair back from his forehead as he waits for a response. Just when he thinks it is going to go to voice mail someone finally picks up.

"H-hello? Alfred?"

"Heey, Mattie...How're you?" His voice is soft, a bit more flat than usual.

"Oh? I um, I'm just fine." Does Canada really have to sound so surprised he had asked? "How are...how are you doing?"

"Eh...I'm...mm." Not really bad per say. Not good. "Somewhere in between."

"...I see. Is everything alright?" Canada has just the right inflection of concern and America loves him for it.

"No. Come see me. I want to talk to you and I'm tired of traveling. I've done too much of it lately."

Canada sighs softly. "Right now? I- One second." He hears his brother speaking softly but can't catch the words. "Sorry about that. Um, I mean if it's really urgent..."

"Please Mattie? It doesn't have to be this second but I want to see you, so come down here. I need to talk to someone."

"We're talking right now aren't we?"

"That's not what I mean. Come oooooon, come see me please? Just for like, a day. I need you as emotional support and it's not like you're probably doing anything anyway." Like, what does he have to deal with except maybe a stray moose?

Canada doubts that America can sense him fuming on the other side of the line nor would care if he could. "Emotional support...Fine. I'll come tomorrow. But you have to watch the Stanley Cup Finals with me and cheer for my teams."

"Some brother you are! I am begging you from the bottom of my heart and you put conditions on it. Very cruel of you. But if I must, I'll even wear a big stupid leaf on my chest." Pft, like that's going to happen.

"Don't make me hurt you Al- Stop it- No I won't give you the phone! Just one- You want me to ask what? ...But...Okay that's a good point. Hey Alfred? Is...Is Russia still staying with you?"

"...Yeah."

"Is this what you want me to come down to talk about?"

"...Maybe."

"Is he going to hurt me if I do?"

America pauses for a second and considers Russia's hostility towards everyone he knows and loves then remembers something. "Nah. He says you get special like...consideration or something because you're my brother. Like my real brother. You're all good bro."

"I see..." There is hesitation in Canada's voice. "Alright... I'll see you tomorrow Al."

"Thanks Mattie. This means a lot to me. Really." He just needs someone. Someone to talk about that he can trust. Get an opinion from a sympathetic but somewhat more impartial party.

"I'll see you then, okay?" Canada's voice has softened. "Bye Al."

"Yeah, see you then. Bye." America presses end and puts the phone under his pillow and closes his eyes again. He feels a bit better now that he has talked to Canada and convinced him to come down to see him. England is too pushy and Japan talks in metaphors. No one is as brutally honest with America as Canada is.

Now that he thinks about it...Someone had been with Canada huh? America vaguely wonders who it is then figures it's probably that bear of his and considers the matter at rest.

~.

Canada shoves his phone back into his pocket. His troublesome brother, always getting himself into messes. Still, he's a bit happy to be asked to come down. To be acknowledged and valued in such a way...

France laughs and breaks Canada's moment of Zen. "So the Russian is still with him, eh? I find it hard to believe you when you tell me he is completely opposed to the relationship when all signs point to them being together."

"Well...Well he was last time he came here! I don't know what things are like now but he was resistant to it then. Maybe...Well I guess I'll be finding out tomorrow. Why do you care anyway? It's none of your business."

"Oh but it is mon cher, it is! I still have a bet to settle with Spain. You are going there tomorrow you said? Then I am coming with you." France sips at his wine, the matter thoroughly decided as far as he's concerned.

"B-but...but you weren't invited! And I really don't know if Alfred will like having you there. And Russia-"

"Russia will not care. He came to moi about romantic advice after all," France says in a self-smug manner. "I am going and that is final. And don't go telling him I am, it should be a charming surprise! Now no more fussing."

Canada sighs exasperatedly and thinks that it is a very, very bad idea. But it's not like France will listen to him or really ever has. If things go wrong it can be his funeral. "Alright but don't blame me if someone ends up-"

"You worry too much Matthieu. Ah, but remind me, what kind of sunflowers did you say Russia sent here for America? The big sunflowers or the small ones?"

"Um, the big ones with the long stems." Though why that's relevant Canada has no idea.

France, however, chuckles against his wine glass before taking another sip. "How very fitting."

~.

In a state of dozing, America has almost slipped back into sleep when he hears the door open slowly. His body tenses ever so slightly but he doesn't allow himself to show anymore of a reaction. He doesn't want Russia trying to talk to him and doesn't feel like telling him to leave.

There is some shuffling and America feels tense. His apprehension increases when he feels Russia's weight upset the bed. The other crawls closer on the bed then settle beside him. America bites the inside of his bottom lip, waiting, silently daring Russia to try touching him.

The anticipation pays off as he feels Russia shift closer and hands grabbing at his back. He's just waiting...waiting for Russia to try groping him or holding him or something. He'll punch him the second he does. But this time it doesn't come. Instead he feels the pressure of Russia pressing his forehead against his back and nuzzling it gently as he continues to clutch at his back like a child.

Very softly he murmurs, "I will try harder Alfred, I will prove it to you. I..."

Prove what? America waits for Russia to finish that sentence, to finally slip his arms around him or at least roll away. He doesn't. Finally, finally Russia murmurs almost too quietly to hear, "I will make it stop hurting."

But by then America has fallen asleep in a state of waiting.

* * *

Translations:

Ya hochu tebya attrahat' – I want to fuck you (corrected)

So much love to my dearest shishunki who spent twenty minutes helping me figure out at least vaguely the proper translation...So hard to find. Seriously.


	43. Chapter 43

Hellu~

I thought I should clear this up as a lot of people seemed confused about it and it is actually kind of significant. The pain Russia refers to at the end of the prior chapter is his own pain which he makes mention of while he plays chess by himself. It is the first sign he shows of having legitimate feelings for America, but he can't recognize the feeling for what it is. Sorry that was kinda sloppily written.

Also I forgot to say last time, thanks to **AmWatchingYou** for correcting my Russian in prior chapters (I just need to go back and fix it). I would love to take you up on your offer to help with Russian phrases but I don't know how to contact you. Perhaps you can message me?

Thanks to anyone who helps me with my language mistakes overall. It's always very appreciated!

* * *

Waking up seems like a chore the next morning. All of America's movements are sluggish. His mind flits on the edge of consciousness long before he bothers to open his eyes. And when he does they feel heavy and he is obliged to close them for another five minutes before they agree to cooperate. Groggily he rubs his eyes and sits up, yawning loudly. What time is it...?

Looking around for his phone unsuccessfully, America groans then remembers he had put it under his pillow. Pulling it out he checks the time. It's around eleven. Debating whether tis nobler to face the day or waste it in bed, he grudgingly decides to get up. After all, Canada never had said when he was coming (and he hadn't given him a time) so he should be ready for that.

America stares blankly at nothing for a long time, mentally preparing himself. Without thinking about it, his eyes slide to the other side of the bed, which is empty. Yesterday had been... America runs a hand through his hair then picks up Texas and slips them on. New day, new perspective...or something like that.

As America enters the living room he finds Russia looking over some paperwork. He doesn't quite know how to react. They had been fighting yesterday but it wasn't the kind of fight where they had sworn to never speak again or something. And he remembers what Russia had said last night. Even if it had been a little vague. "...Morning."

Russia glances up, face carefully composed in that childish expression America is so used to. "Good morning. Would you like me to make you something?"

This feels too normal...and because of that it also feels awkward. "Nah, I'm gonna do that whole cereal thing today. Er...thanks though."

"Mm, very well." Russia looks back down at his papers without another word.

America doesn't know what emotion to feel at this point and so he goes to the kitchen to get some cereal. A staple food, surely. One time he had gotten Lucky Charms and put aside all the marshmallows then threw the rest away but England had found out and called him disgusting. They're the best part anyway. Everyone knows that.

America walks back out into the living room and watches Russia, standing as he eats. "...Matthew is coming over later today."

Russia doesn't look up. "Who?"

"Y'know...um, Canada, my brother." America takes a bite of cereal, catching a stray trickle of milk with his spoon.

Finally violet eyes glance up to regard him. "Do you wish for me to leave for a while?"

Where did that come from? "Er, no...I mean I don't really care. If you want to. You can...you can stay. I just thought I'd tell you. And...well, don't be mean to him."

"And why would I be mean to him?" The question seems to be a serious one.

Maybe because he had been mean to everyone else? "Uh...I dunno. Look I was just telling you okay?"

Nodding once, Russia returns to his papers. America rolls his eyes and walks back to the kitchen, finishing his cereal at the dining table. Well pardon him for giving a heads up. Jerk. Once he is finished he throws his bowl in the sink and returns to the living room. "I'm grabbing a shower."

Russia nods again. "Very well."

"Right." This is so damn awkward now. It's not like it's his fault so he's not going to apologize for anything and that's that. America goes off to get showered up and dressed.

Waiting a bit Russia collects his papers together then puts them away. There is still that strange lingering pain in his chest. It intensifies when America is near. He has no idea what it is but it is truly unpleasant. Russia wishes his heart would fall out so he could inspect it to see if there is something wrong with it but it hasn't done that in quite some time.

On a more optimistic note America seems to be less hostile today. Maybe he can do something to further improve the American's mood. Russia thinks about it. He doesn't want to do anything that will irritate him and for some reason his gift of flowers tends to annoy the other. Maybe... Russia remembers how America had lit up when they went out for ice cream. Maybe ice cream then.

Russia stands and straightens his coat. Right then, ice cream.

~.

Walking along the ice cream aisle of the grocery store, Russia is as always impressed by the pure amount of choices there are. So excessive, always excessive. It's hard to pick one. His wandering takes him a bit far and he gets to the popsicle section. He starts to wander back then pauses. America probably likes them, too. And admittedly he wouldn't mind seeing America eat one.

Opening the glass door a burst of chilled air pours over him, not fazing him in the least as he reaches out and grabs a painfully colorful box. It's worth a shot. He looks down at it and looks for any signs of it being sugar free or having any of the other health labels. The goal is to find one that is as unhealthy as is possible. Frozen, flavored sugar water with artificial coloring. The box meets his standards and he tucks it lightly under his arm. Perfect.

~.

When America gets out of the shower Russia has thoroughly disappeared. Not that he cares or anything. So he must have decided he didn't want to deal with America's brother. Fine by him. Best for Mattie anyway.

He gets a text from Canada alerting him to the fact that he will be arriving very soon. Even his texts come off as timid somehow. It's kinda cute. America finishes getting ready then sits on the couch, feeling impatient. He hates waiting around.

When the door starts to open he gets to his feet. It's about time. Yet it isn't his brother who enters—who would have knocked he realized a little late—but Russia. "Oh...You came back."

Russia blinks at him then turns to close the door. "Mm? I thought you did not mind if I was here?"

"No, I mean I just thought you had..."

Brushing off the awkward moment Russia holds out the box. "Would you like a popsicle?"

America stares at the box blankly for a moment then bursts out laughing. "What the hell man? Random much? Did you hear my brother was coming and thought we needed popsicles to celebrate? Pancakes would have been a better choice. Ah...You're so weird sometimes."

Giving him a somewhat exasperated look, Russia continues to hold it out. "For you...I got them for you. I forgot your brother was coming."

"But I just told you he was."

"And I forgot." Russia shakes the box, head tilted slightly. "Do you not like them?"

He really is just the weirdest person ever. Amused despite himself, America finally takes it and opens it up. "No, I really like them a lot actually. Thanks...Mm, do you want one too?"

Russia pauses then nods even though he does not particularly care one way or the other. "Da, I will take one."

America digs through them, pressing the plastic covers to the popsicles until he finally selected two. "Alright, I'm going to put the rest in the freezer. Hold these until I get back. ...Pft, popsicles."

Though Russia had not quite expected such a strange reaction it is not a bad one. America seems amused at least. Not thinking much about it he sets one on the table and opens the other. It is red, perhaps watermelon or cherry. He gives it a few licks. Not bad for flavored frozen sugar water.

America enters the room, a little bit excited. Popsicles make him think of summer days, sun so hot it's impossible to breathe, to do anything but suck down a couple dozen of the frozen treats. However, when he sees what Russia is doing he squawks indignantly and rushes over, grabbing his arm.

The popsicle nearly falls from Russia's hand and he raises his eyebrows. "What? Is something the matter Alfred?"

"Something wrong, something wrong? How dare you! You aren't supposed to eat the red one! The red one is mine! I got you a purple one!" The purple ones match his eyes sort of.

"Purple? Oh I am sorry. I did not realize they were different...colors." Did they not have flavors? Or does America merely use the color as the flavor?

"Well they are! I can't believe you, taking the red one. You would, you totally would! Ugh, I can't even...Everyone knows the red ones are the best!"

Does that mean America had purposely given him a flavor that is not the best? But then something else clicks. "Red is the best?"

"Duh! Everyone knows that!" Seriously, the red ones are number one. Purple isn't bad either but red is definitely first. And this bastard has gotten his mouth all over it!

The smile on Russia's face widens. "Is that not the nickname you had me under in your phone? I am the best, da? America is secretly infatuated with red, that explains so much of the Cold War."

America flushes once he realizes the flaw of his wording. "N-nuh uh! That only applies to popsicles! Stop twisting my words with your evil commie logic!"

Giggling, Russia holds the popsicle towards America. "If you want it you may have it."

America turns his head. "No, I don't want it anymore!"

"But America, you said it was the best. Here, just take it. Open your mouth." He presses it against America's lips.

America jerks his head away and backs up a few paces, hitting the couch and barely keeping himself from falling back. "I said no!"

"Come on Alfred, you said you wanted it, da? You like the taste best, so take it." Highly amused now, Russia closes in on America and tries pressing it to his lips again.

"S-stop it! It's sticky...and you're gonna choke me if you shove it in my mouth!" America shoves at him, flustered as it brushes against his cheek. "And it's cold!"

America pushes Russia back and the popsicle meets its death on the floor. "Look what you have done Alfred, you broke it."

"Broke it?" The door suddenly bursts open. A somewhat horrified France stands in the doorway, Canada tucked under his arm, a hand over the poor younger nation's mouth. Canada struggles to get away from his grip, looking flustered.

They all stare at each other for a moment. France finally seems to notice the popsicle on the floor and lets out a relieved breath. "Oh thank goodness, I thought you were talking about his-"

America flushes even more, embarrassed by the implication and being caught in this situation at all. "What the hell are you doing here you freak?"

And how long had he been standing outside the door listening in like a creeper?

France smiles pleasantly at them. "Matthieu invited me."

Canada makes an indignant sound and finally manages to free himself. "I- I did not! You invited yourself, don't lie!"

France laughs and waves his hand. "It is all the same in the end. I am here!"

America glowers at him. "Well get your ass right back out that door, no one invited you except yourself."

But of course France is already walking further inside, looking around with poorly veiled contempt for his surroundings. "Your home fits you as always Amérique."

"...Mattie, how about you come with me to the kitchen for a moment. We have popsicles if you'd like. France, do you want one of the yellow ones?"

France gives him a tight smile. "Non, I am fine thank you. And I shall not even bother asking for wine, I know you would not have something up to taste."

Oooh he's going to punch France so hard in the mouth... "Mattie. Now."

Looking a bit pained Canada hurries across the room to his brother's side, who snatches up the forgotten purple popsicle and quickly tugs him away from the living room. France and Russia appraise each other for a moment. "Comment vas-tu?"

Russia gives him a bored look. "Fine, and yourself?"

France pouts and takes a seat on the couch, careful to avoid the fallen popsicle. "You know, I miss when you spoke French all the time."

"Da, well that was quite a while ago."

Sighing a touch dramatically, France shakes his head. "Language has fallen into a distasteful fashion nowadays." He pats the couch beside him but Russia ignores him and continues to stand. "I have a question for you about your relationship with America if you do not mind answering."

Russia's smile twitches a bit then becomes almost sickeningly sweet. "Oh? And what might that be?"

France points at him. "Whose love advice did you find most useful when wooing him?"

The question does not seem to phase Russia in the least and he answers without hesitation. "Italy."

"Ah-!" Italy...Italy? Not his own or even Spain's but... "Italy...?"

"Italy."

"Ah..."

"Da. He has been very helpful." Russia leans down and picks up the pieces of the broken treat. "I am afraid other advice got me into trouble at times."

"I...see..." France looks wonderfully put out. He will have to call Spain about this later. At least he's not out any money, and neither is the other who really can't afford it.

Russia straightens. "I will return momentarily, I am going to throw this away."

"Of course, do not mind me."

Nodding his head, Russia goes into the kitchen with the melting fragments in his hand.

"I don't care, you should have told him no!" America has his arms crossed, looking very irritated.

Canada looks decidedly miserable in return. "He doesn't listen to anyone and you know it. What did you want me to do? I said I was sorry..."

America looks over as Russia enters. "Hey, feel like punching France in the face? You totally have permission."

Russia dumps the popsicle in the sink and rinses his hand. "No, that is alright."

America throws his arms up. "Why is it that you'll threaten to attack everyone but him?"

Drying his hands, Russia turns to him and smiles pleasantly. "I know you hate him so I have nothing to worry about."

"Oh golly gee swell," America mutters flatly. The one time he wouldn't care... "Okay Mattie, guess I'll forgive you this once but seriously...At least a warning would have been nice. Something up to taste indeed. Give him a taste of my fist, see how he likes that."

Canada sighs softly. "Sorry already! Can we just...try to go on despite this?"

"Yeah, yeah." Though how America is going to talk to Canada with France and Russia around... Maybe they'll go for a walk or something. "Let us not keep the frog prince waiting then."

Canada and Russia follow after America who sits on the opposite end of the couch from France, not looking at him. Canada acts as a buffer, taking a place near France. He hurriedly scoots over, pressing up against the Frenchman as Russia takes a seat. He has no doubt in his mind that the man would have sat on him without question if he hadn't moved out of the way. Up to now he hasn't even acknowledged his existence once. Then again, it might be better than being in his line of sight...

The fit is a bit snug with all four of them but America refuses to accommodate, Russia will not move, Canada is all but pinned where he is, and France is quite comfortable being squeezed up against someone else.

An awkward silence follows. The things America wants to say are definitely not up for public discussion and he's kind of in a bad mood about Canada bringing France when he knew he wanted to talk to him privately. Even if France did just rudely push himself into the picture.

Canada clears his throat but can't actually think of something to say. He feels intimidated next to Russia despite what America had said about his being safe. All he can do is hope that this ends smoothly and safely...Somehow.

France looks around, already bored now that he has discovered the shocking truth. He needs entertainment. "Strange, I thought I might see your home overrun by sunflowers but there do not seem to be any."

"Oh, they are in the bedroom," Russia says brightly. Though those are starting to wilt. He needs to get America new ones soon.

America elbows him. As if France needs to know that. But France is delighted. "Ah of course, flowers are best in bedrooms. And may I compliment you on your excellent choice in symbolism, awarding America with sunflowers?"

Russia blinks rapidly and quirks his head, looking at France in confusion. "...What?"

France laughs airily. "Oh you know...Giving him long stemmed sunflowers. The meaning behind them suits our dear Alfred perfectly. Loyalty...Constancy...Pride and haughtiness. Who fits those words better than he?"

There is a moment of silence, broken only by France's chuckling. As America begins to grind his teeth Russia looks slightly distressed. "I...did not know sunflowers symbolized those things."

"Oh? That is disappointing, I truly thought you were the most clever thing! Well, I suppose it is too much to assume others are versed in the language of flowers. I wonder if America knows the significance of his national flower? I have always been curious as it seems very out of character for him. Probably lack of creativity, oui? 'Give me the rose, that's a flower I know!' I am kidding! But I digress. Sunflowers are quite interesting. In art they are often used to portray infatuation or foolish passion."

France chuckles again, quite amused by the whole situation. Canada sinks into the cushion, becoming more and more terrified of being between Russia and France as Russia's mood darkens and the air seems to get a distinct chill. Canada can practically hear the 'kolkolkols' coming and silently prays his invisible status will be useful for once.

France is quite oblivious of the other's change in disposition. "A curious choice but somehow rather fitting all things said and done. There is almost something poetic about it."

Russia thinks he might very well hit France after all. The first 'kol' has just left his lips when America interjects sharply. "I like them."

Three heads turn his way. America doesn't look at any of them, stares straight ahead. "The sunflowers. I mean admittedly we had our problems in the beginning, what with them being minions of the sunflower devil and all but we've made our peace. And yeah, I'd say those things do fit me pretty well. I'm a loyal kinda guy and I'm proud as hell and I think everyone knows it. So why don't you just shut the _fuck _up about things no one cares about. And for your information I know exactly what my national flower represents. Aside from their strong tie to love and romance, red roses indicate courage, respect, and passion. Asshole."

America stands abruptly. "Matthew, come on. We're going for a walk. Now."

A bit relieved to be escaping, Canada squirms out from between Russia and France. He tries to feel worse for France but the other has brought this down on himself. "R-right."

America gives France a cold look. "You and Russia have fun hanging out. Don't play too rough now, hm?"

France raises an eyebrow. Sometimes America is so rude. All he did was educate them further on the symbolism of sunflowers. Oh sure he mocked America a bit but that was just what they did to one another. At least the fool knows of the magnificence of the rose or he would shame the beautiful flower with his ignorance. "I am sure we will be fine. Do behave yourselves, children."

As the two make their way towards the door Russia hurries to his feet and puts a hand on America's shoulder and pulls him aside, whispering softly, "I...That was not ever my intention-"

America lightly pats his hand and smiles. "I know. You just like them right?"

The gesture and words reassure Russia and he relaxes. "Da, I like them very much...And what is the sunflower devil?"

Laughing, America winks at him and shakes his head. "Don't worry about it. We'll be back in a bit. Do as you please."

"Da...I will." Russia releases his shoulder and takes a step back. America understands...And that actually means a lot to him. He would never use sunflowers in such a vulgar, mocking way. The fact that France has implied such a thing...

Canada gives France a worried look. Should he try to warn him? Save him? Well, he had told him that it would be his own fault if he got into trouble. "Please...Be safe."

France laughs. "Should that not be said to you mon cher?"

Before Canada can respond America pushes him out the door, slamming it shut behind him. France smiles up at Russia, about to make some undoubtedly witty and charming comment. Whatever it is escapes him completely and his smile starts to slip as Russia gives him a decidedly disturbing little grin. "Ah...Is...Everything alright Russia?"

Russia takes a few steps forward, the menacing aura around him seeming to grow larger and larger. "You have insulted them, France."

France swallows hard and presses against the couch, laughing nervously. "I-insulted whom? Matthieu and A-?"

"Nyet, not them. The sunflowers. Using them in such a petty way...It is very rude."

France's eyes widen as Russia continues to loom closer and closer, something unpleasantly electric in the air. "S-sunflowers?"

"Da, can you not hear them? They demand an apology." The grin twists in a way that sends goosebumps racing up and down France's arms.

"I-I- Je ne sais pas...Je n'avais pas l'intention de..." France sinks lower and lower against the couch.

Russia begins to lean down, breaching what little distance France has made between them. "I wonder...Do you remember how cold my winters are France?"

France screams.

~.

America and Canada meander along the streets for a while, Canada still feeling a twinge of guilt over France. America goes on for a while about unimportant things then stops to get a bagel, chattering away with a full mouth. It hardly seems worth it to Canada to tell him he can't understand him. It's not like he's saying anything important. Not yet.

The two come across a playground and America tugs his brother after him, running towards the swings. Canada takes a seat on one. They're too low to the ground for the two of them to comfortably sit on. America ignores this fact completely and instead flops onto one on his belly.

Canada can't help but laugh a bit at the sight, his brother nearly bent in half, face hanging precariously close to the ground. "Pft, Alfred...You look so ridiculous right now."

Using his feet to push himself back and forth, America cranes his head to look up at him. "Yeah well...You look ridiculous all the time."

Raising an eyebrow, Canada coolly replies, "We're twins so that must mean you do, too."

America snorts. "As if, I'm totally cool all the time. Jealous much?"

Leaning his head against one of the chains, which smells strongly of rust, Canada rolls his eyes. "Whatever you say." The two sit in silence for a while, the swing set creaking under their weight. "So. What did you want to talk about?"

America presses his glasses back up his face, as they have begun to hang precariously from his ears. "...Ivan."

"So he's Ivan all the time now?"

America seems to wince at the question. "...Yeah, I guess so."

Sighing softly, Canada grabs hold of the chains and leans back, looking up at the sky. "Are you...You've gotten into a relationship with him?"

"It's complicated see...I mean...I shouldn't be at all. I was just gonna...I wanted to fix him, y'know?"

Oh yes, Canada knows about his brother's desire to fix everyone, save them from themselves. "You went from hiding from him to wanting to fix him?"

"It's a long story. Can you just...not dwell on that part?" It's too much to explain and too much isn't really his to talk about.

"Sure, alright. So? You wanted to fix him...meaning you don't anymore?"

America groans. His stomach is starting to hurt from being in this position and the blood had started pounding in his temples. He gets up and sits properly on the swing, feeling light headed. "I...I don't really know. Yes. No. Can we skip that part too? The point is that I wanted to fix him and then...Fuck I don't know, it's so confusing. I guess we're sort of friends with benefits at the moment but I know he wants to be more and I don't know how I feel and I don't even know if he is capable of being more and...It's scary. It...It really scares me Mattie. Now that I think about it I get what Kiku was saying. He knows what I'm like and how freaked out relationships make me. Ugh I'm so freaking...Relationships are just...They're so...And Ivan just seems like he's waiting for me to fall but I don't know if he even actually..."

The hero that fears his armor being pierced. Canada is sure that's the poetic way of looking at it. What he sees is his brother, small and afraid of the unknown, like a little boy. It's a more accurate and endearing portrayal. "I guess...it's not abnormal to be afraid of opening yourself up like that to another person. I think that it's okay that you're confused. You have a right to be. Especially considering this is a guy who menaced you, publicly humiliated you... Honestly Al...I'm going to say something and I don't know how you'll feel about it but I do hope you'll think about it. You've made this very focused on yourself. And I mean, that's okay too. You do have to figure these things out... But what about Russia? I don't really know much about the situation because you haven't actually told me much but... um, well... I think you might need to figure out how Russia feels, how he _really_ feels about you, before you think more about your own feelings."

America looks over at him then looks down at the ground as he traces lines in the dirt with the tips of his shoes. "Mm..."

"Maybe...it would help if you did. That's all I'm saying. Is it...worth getting so worked up and confused if he doesn't feel anything with you? You say you don't even know so... I mean it's not my business but...I don't want to...to see you get hurt by him or anything."

"No, it's a good point..." America chews on his bottom lip. "Is it stupid? I mean, am I stupid for...for worrying about how I feel about him after everything he's done? God Mattie am I just...But as I've gotten to know him better he's not really so bad. Definitely mislead and weird as hell but not bad. I kind of get him in a weird way. But what if I am just...some idiot and I work myself up and then he...Why do I sound like some lovelorn chick over him? It's so goddamn stupid and two or three months ago I'd punch myself in the face over thinking all this lame stuff."

Canada gives him a sympathetic look. "Feelings do change, Al."

America stares at the shapes he has traced, as if it is a language that he can decipher if he only tries hard enough. Finally his eyes flicker up and capture Canada's. "That's what's always scared me the most."

* * *

**Translations**:

Amérique – America

Comment vas-tu? - How are you? (informal)

Je ne sais pas – I do not know

Je n'avais pas l'intention de... – I did not intend to...

**Historical Note**:

The reference to Russia speaking French comes mainly from two things. First, the fact that a good deal of countries have had a major hard on for French culture at some point or another in their histories. Second, speaking French used to be a sign of high education in many countries and Russia wasn't excluded from that. A lot of Russia's superiors (not just referring to leaders) at one point or another probably spoke almost exclusively in French. Thus, he would have to know it. Please, if you find issue with any of this information don't bitch at me about it but kindly educate me in a polite manner~

**National(?) Notes**:

I feel that all of the countries would (and really should) understand the significance of their national symbols. And while the US national flower is simply stated as 'the rose' I feel a red rose is most appropriate. The national flower of France is a stylized Lily or an Iris, the Maple Leaf is widely used for Canada's national flower, Russia's is...Well I've heard Sunflower but I always see Camomile on lists so I have no idea which is correct. I do know that Ukraine's national flower is for sure the Sunflower.

**AN: **You guys are perverts~ Thinkin' France's comment about sunflowers in the last chapter was an innuendo. I hadn't even thought of that -laughs- Not that it doesn't fit him. You're so silly~ Also purple popsicles are my favorite.

Je n'avais pas l'intention de


	44. Chapter 44

Hello~ Guess what? Today (November 14th) is this story's one year anniversary! I never expected it to be this long and it certainly has come far! I really want to thank all of you from the bottom of my heart! For reading, for recommending, for alerting and adding to favorites, for the fanart, for the truly kind/interesting/amusing/sweet/creepy reviews~ You have truly helped make this story so much more of a success than I ever dreamed possible and I am deeply touched by your support! Thank you so much!

And happy birthday to Redawilo!

* * *

France sobs as Russia presses a sunflower to his face. "I-I am sorry, I said I am sorry! I didn't mean it, p-please forgive me! I swear I-"

"I think there is not enough sincerity in your voice! Once more with feeling, or you will have to experience the cold again," Russia says in a cheerful voice.

A shudder goes through France and he shakes his head. "N-non, please no more! I apologize from the bottom of my heart, no more! I... I didn't mean to offend you or... or the sunflowers! I was merely teasing A-America. That is usually what we do, we give each other a hard time, you see? It was not directed at anyone else!"

"Perhaps you should leave teasing Alfred to me. I do not like sharing the privilege. How about another apology? I think they have not forgiven you yet." He gives him a humorless smile and once again shoves the sunflower in France's face.

On the verge of a nervous collapse France mumbles, "D-d-dwarf..."

Dwarf? If France is about to make a crack about Peter he is a dead man. "What about dwarfs?"

With a shaky hand France reaches up and delicately pulls on one of the sunflower's petals. "D-dwarf varieties... Dwarf varieties of sunflowers symbolize a-adoration."

As France cringes, perhaps expecting more punishment for speaking out of turn of Russia's beloved sunflowers, Russia looks at it thoughtfully. "Adoration?"

"O-oui! Sunflowers are really quite m-marvelous flowers! Just like love, discretion can sometimes say twice as much you see?" France hopes beyond hope it is enough to satisfy Russia. He will simply break if he has to go through another round of Russian winter.

"Adoration... I see. I knew they were a good choice. Oh, I do like the big ones but the small ones are cute too." And after all he had just been thinking it is time to get America more flowers. Russia releases France and considers the sunflower in his hand.

So relieved he thinks he might cry, France hastily puts some space between the two of them, finally bumping into a wall. He presses his back into it as hard as he can, as if he might suddenly gain the ability to move through walls.

Russia stands and brushes himself off, carefully setting down the flower. "In this case I will be going to find some for Alfred. It was fun talking with you, France. Next time remember the importance of manners, da?"

France nods with over-enthusiasm, desperate to be safely out of the harbor of Russia's wrath. "Oh o-oui I shall never forget!"

Somehow Russia doubts that but so long as he remembers to be polite around him then he shall leave him in relative peace. "Goodbye, please apologize for my absence if that other person gets back with Alfred and I have not returned yet."

With that he adjusts his scarf and leaves the house on a quest for dwarf sunflowers. As he exits France lets out a relieved breath and shakily reaches for his cellphone. He wants to get as far away from this horrible place and the lingering chill as quickly as he possibly can.

~.

America and Canada walk silently side by side. From time to time Canada looks at his eerily thoughtful twin from the corner of his eye. After Alfred's confession of sorts he wasn't able to get much more out of him. He hadn't elaborated on what he meant and Canada knows more than to push him too hard on it. In a way he understands. Emotions change and thus too do relationships. His relationship with his brother, though often strained due to the other forgetting about his existence from time to time and general stupidity, is fairly good and they usually like each other now. For a long time it had been a lot more complicated and he hadn't been sure he would ever come to care for his brother. And yet somehow their bond had strengthened and now he has to give him love advice to use on a psychopath. Canada briefly wonders if Russia will even treat his brother properly if they hook up. A protectiveness flares up within him. If Russia doesn't or hurts Al he will soon find he is not the only country that can be quite cold.

America suddenly throws his arm over Canada's shoulders. "Hey, you have a scary look on your face there Mattie. Something the matter?"

"Eh? Oh, n-no it's nothing. I..." His fumbling is cut off by the sound of his cellphone going off. "Oh, it's Francis, one moment."

As he answers he is immediately assaulted by a barrage of French and freezes, not understanding a thing France is trying to convey. Something about winter and Russia trying to kill his soul and sunflowers are somehow involved. As Canada confusedly responds in France's mother tongue America immediately tunes out and starts to look around. He hopes the frog has gotten what he deserves and that Russia is making a sacrifice of him to the sunflowers.

Something in a small shop catches his eye. He stares at it for a long moment before getting a weird urge. He glances at Canada who is still trying to decipher France's cryptic words_ (L__'enfer est l'œil de la fleur de tournesol__, le froid de la Sibérie__!)__. _Fingers tapping rapidly against his leg he finally plunges into the store, immediately assaulted by cute and chic accessories and jewelry for girls.

Not even believing what he's doing he walks towards the window and picks up what he had been looking at. A small but rather pretty sunflower pin. Just the sort of thing Russia will find inexplicably adorable. He stares at the price range—not that he's actually going to buy it or anything—and is taken aback by the price. Why so much for a stupid pin or brooch or whatever the hell girls call them?

Then again a little sign proudly proclaims it is locally made. Supporting good old American craftsmanship. A worthy cause. Honestly the only reason he might even consider buying the stupid thing. Not that he's going to. Nope, sure not going to-

Canada touches his arm and he jumps. When did Matthew become a ninja? "Jeez! You nearly scared me to death!"

"S-sorry? Um, Francis is essentially having a panic attack and wants us to come back. He says he doesn't feel safe being alone in the house knowing about the ... _army_ that is lurking in your room... as he put it. I have no idea what Russia did to him but I told him it was a bad idea for him to come. Ready to go?"

Alone? Russia isn't there? Not that it matters. "Oh yeah I was just gonna buy this and..."

He almost smacks his forehead. Well now that he's said he's going to buy it he'd look pretty stupid putting it back. And it would be a lie! A hero doesn't lie. Seems he is absolutely trapped into buying the stupid pin for the sake of his honor and American industry and no other reason.

Canada tries to get a look at it but America quickly closes his hand around it so he can't. "Um...okay. I'll just wait for you outside then."

America quickly nods. Good, best he doesn't see. Not that he's hiding anything. Nope. He hurries over to the cashier and puts the trinket down. The woman ringing him up, young and stylish, gives him a warm smile. "Ooh. For your girlfriend?"

A nervous laugh escapes America. "Er...uh...y-yeah."

Giving him a look that says she thinks he's absolutely adorable for that reaction, she scans it and starts hitting keys on the cash register. "Lucky girl."

America mutters something unintelligible and turns bright red as he shoves a twenty on the counter. She takes it with a friendly laugh and hits a few more keys, a small jingle as the register pops open, and takes out his change. "She'll like it, I promise."

For as much as he is paying 'she' better damn well like the stupid thing. "Th-thanks."

Shoving the change, receipt and the pin in his pocket he gives a hasty farewell before escaping back onto the street. He grabs Canada's arm and hastily starts pulling him forward. Canada stumbles after him before catching up. "...You really have it bad, huh?"

America lets out a frustrated groan and slumps against his brother. Smiling weakly Canada lightly pats his back. "It's not true..."

"Mm." Canada doesn't disagree but he has a feeling that his brother is fighting a battle he has already lost whether he realizes it or not.

~.

When they enter the house France immediately launches himself on Canada, hugging him and kissing him as if he is a sacred idol come to life. Canada squeaks and pushes at him. "What is the matter with you?"

France wails dramatically. "Oh it was horrible! Horrible! America's lover is terrible! I thought my very organs might freeze! Like dying... Oh mon petit chou, take me from this place!"

America storms by them impatiently. "You deserved it idiot! And he is not my lover!"

Giving a very audible snort, France quickly turns back to Canada. "Please, I can not bear it a moment longer!"

Canada sighs softly. "Al, was there anything else you wanted to talk about or...?"

America shakes his head, admittedly a little disappointed that France doesn't seem to have any physical damage done to him. "Nah, I'm good. I really appreciate your coming down even if a certain someone ruined the experience entirely and is drastically cutting our time together short."

"Al..." Honestly, sometimes Canada can't help but be grateful he's usually invisible, it's too much pressure trying to take care of so many childish people. At least England pretends to have dignity. "W-we should be going then... Um, I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help. I'm a phone call away if you need anything."

"Thanks Mattie, I appreciate it. You can take out the trash now."

"Oh, as if you are one to talk you cheap little-" France suddenly gets a stricken expression and looks around nervously as if expecting to see someone watching him. "I-I mean... it really has been a l-lovely visit. We do not wish to overstay our welcome! Au revoir!"

"G-goodbye!" Canada barely has time to wave as France drags him from the house rapidly.

With an annoyed grunt America walks over and properly closes the door. He turns around and leans against it for a moment. The house seems strange when it's this empty now. He has gotten way too used to Ivan being a creepy presence just waiting to spring on him at a moment's notice. Collapsing onto the couch he can't help but wonder where he went off to. If only he got more time with Matthew... Stupid France. All he can do is hope that Russia has somehow mentally scarred him for life.

Maybe he should eat a popsicle. He hadn't gotten one earlier. And this time he'll make sure it's a red one... But he feels cozy on the couch. Nuzzling the small pillow he closes his eyes. What should he do? Confront Ivan then once he gets back? Ask him to talk about his feelings? Shit it sounds so lame. But what else can he do? This is starting to drive him crazy. Particularly the fact that his personal resolve has started to crumble and shift due to the stupid Russian. Whatever, he's going to break him in half or something for making him so confused. When he gets back. From wherever he went. Not that America is curious about it at all or cares. Not at all.

America falls into a light doze as he most certainly does not wait for Russia to come back.

~.

With a start America wakes up. How long has he been asleep? He sits up and fixes Texas, which have gone violently askew on his face. He pauses and stares at a bouquet that sits on the table. Quickly looking around he sits up and runs a hand through his hair. Frowning a bit, he gets up and snatches it then returns to the couch.

The bouquet is made up of what looks like little baby sunflowers with a few roses mixed in. It's a weird mixture but they do look rather stunning together. There is a card with it and he flips it open. The writing is small and cramped.

_Alfred,_

_I have been informed that dwarf sunflowers represent adoration. I knew they were perfect for you! And of course I know that you know what your flower represents. Please do enjoy them._

_Love, _

_Ivan_

_P.S. France is a fool_

_P.P.S. I am hiding behind the couch _

The couch? Alfred slowly turns his head towards the back of the couch. There is no way Ivan could ever fit in that small of a space! ...Well it is Russia, he does all sorts of insane things. And last time he had been serious about being behind him... Setting the bouquet down carefully beside him he turns and slowly starts to peek behind the couch.

A giggle makes him jump and he hastily turns around. Russia walks towards him, still giggling and looking highly amused. "Oh how cute, you actually fell for it."

America blinks then flushes. Where the hell did he even come from? "Y-you jerk! What the hell! You think that's funny?"

As Russia reaches the couch he carefully picks up the flowers and settles them on his lap as he smiles at America. "Well, lately everyone seems to think I am trying to be funny so I thought I would try to be on purpose."

America gives him an annoyed look. "...You are such a weirdo."

"Da, so I think you have said many a time before. It is worth it if it means I get to see you acting so adorably." Russia giggles again then holds out the bouquet of flowers. "Do you like them?"

Taking them from the Russian, America rubs a rogue rose petal. "Mm they're pretty. Am I going to find baby sunflowers all over the house now?"

"Baby sunflowers? Ti moya prelest! What a cute way of saying it. Mm no. Believe me, it was quite hard to resist but I only got the one bouquet. You don't like getting so many flowers, right?" He reaches over to fuss with one of the sunflowers.

For a moment America stares as Russia all but coos over the bouquet. This is perhaps one of the first times Russia has ever acted upon something America has told him rather than ignoring him completely to act out his own whims. "Ah... I, uh, got you something too."

Oops. He hadn't meant to mention it quite yet. Russia looks up at him, eyebrows raising slightly in surprise then delight. "Oh? Did you really?"

"N-not...I mean, I just got it for... Y'know, to boost the economy." He has no idea what he's talking about. "I don't know if I should give it to you anymore. You hardly did anything to France as far as I can tell. I was kinda expecting more. Very disappointing."

Russia suddenly leans close, sliding an arm around his waist. "Ah, it is always better to leave scars on the inside rather than the outside. They are far more permanent. Trust me Alfred, I know these things. And I can guarantee he will not be able to see sunflowers or snow without going into a nervous fit for a good long while."

"...Well I guess that is something." America sticks his hand in his pocket and rubs the pin uncertainly. "Close your eyes for a sec, you can't look"

Actually quite giddy over the fact that America has gotten him a present, Russia gladly obliges. Feeling sort of silly now America pulls out the pin and removes it from its package. After playing with the back for a moment and looking Ivan over he finally picks a spot on his scarf and pins it on. "You can look now."

Russia eagerly looks down, where he had felt tugging on his scarf. The small glint immediately catches his attention and he lifts it up to get a better look. He is actually taken aback when he sees it, not expecting something so nice. "Ah...This is... It is so cute!"

Just as he had thought. Alfred knew this would be his reaction. He says somewhat teasingly, "I guess I decided I wanted to put a small claim on you after all. Something actually visible."

Russia runs a finger over it as he looks up at America. "A claim?"

America laughs awkwardly. "Just kidding! I'm not being-"

The words are cut off as Russia pulls him closer and kisses him. The hand around his waist sneaks under his shirt, stroking the skin gently. The flowers are not crushed but do get somewhat suffocated between their bodies.

Russia pulls away slowly, enjoying the flustered blush on America's face. "...This means a lot to me Alfred, thank you. The last time someone gave me such a nice gift was when Katyusha made this scarf for me. How appropriate that they go together so well."

He leaves small kisses on Alfred's ear. America looks away, secretly pleased he likes it so much. "Just something I picked up."

Russia giggles again, tracing lazy circles against America's skin as he moves down to lick his neck lightly. Personally he likes giving claims that need constant refreshing but he gladly embraces Alfred's display with open arms. "How was your walk with your brother?"

"Who? O-oh..." America tries to brush Russia's hand away. "It...was okay."

"Just okay?" Russia nuzzles him, ignoring America's mild discouragement. "What did you do?"

"We walked around, I got something to eat, we went to a play ground...We talked about stuff."

Something gives Russia the feeling that America and Canada had probably discussed him or something at least involving him. He's not quite sure if he wants to know, even if America agrees to tell him should he ask. Which he probably would not. America seems to be the type to bring things up when he is ready to talk about them. "Oh? That sounds nice."

"Yeah. It was nice." America fidgets restlessly in Russia's grasp, not sure what else to say. "What exactly did you do to France?"

"Do you remember our first date?"

America raises an eyebrow. "The first 'date' in which I was chained to a chair in an unknown location after you knocked me out with your pipe? Yeah I remember. Kinda hard to forget. What about it?"

Russia smiles fondly at the memory. It had been a very difficult night for him but he can look back on it as one of the founding blocks of his relationship with Alfred now. "Do you recall my anecdote about the French soldiers and their horses?"

A shudder goes through America. "...I tried to forget that part pretty hard but now I remember it."

"France did too, after I finished with him. That is all." Russia gives him that mysterious little smile that looks like it belongs on an innocent child. He makes it seem rather menacing.

"I don't even know if I want to know. So...I'm just gonna take your word for it." France had been pretty freaked out. Good enough for him.

Feeling rather endeared towards America at the moment, Russia kisses America's temple and cheek, lips ghosting from one location to the other. It's making America all flustered again. "Hey, enough with the tenderness or whatever. I'm...uh... going to put these flowers in a vase."

Or more rather a giant cup or something. What kind of man just leaves vases around the house? Ones brought in by a creepy Russian for _other _flowers do not count. He struggles to get out of Russia's grip, who playfully makes it more difficult for him to get free. Once he is on his feet he heads towards the kitchen.

Mid-stride he pauses and looks down at the flowers. A question rises to his lips and he turns back for a moment. "Ivan... how do you feel..."

Russia tilts his head. "Da?"

The words struggle to leave his mouth, just two little words. 'About me?' That's all he has to add. Yet they get all caught up in his throat and refuse to come out. "Um...How do you feel about...pizza tonight?"

"Oh, no Alfred. Trust me, I have something I am making for dinner. Much better than pizza. Perhaps another night. Unless you are absolutely insistent upon it?" Russia gives him an inquisitive look that also seems to say he doesn't care whether America wants pizza, it's not happening.

"No...No that sounds fine to me, I was just asking. Mm...Thanks for the flowers Vanya." Man he's lame, he can't even ask.

Russia brightens, unaware of the other's inner struggle. "I am so happy that you like them!"

America nods then walks into the kitchen, listlessly looking through his cupboards. It's not like he can avoid it forever. It just feels like a weird thing to say. 'I was wondering how you feel about me, tee hee?' Ugh he shall have to think of a manlier way of asking such a foreign question.

~.

Russia hums at the stove as America sits at the table, waiting for whatever the other is cooking. He's still trying to figure out how to ask. Maybe if he just surprise attacks him... No, that would be admittedly awesome but stupid. It shouldn't be so hard!

"It is ready," Russia chimes into his thoughts cheerfully.

America blinks then sits up straighter. "Great, I'm starving! What did you make?"

Dishing up a plate, he walks over and sets it down in front of the American. "You always claim to be starving. Is there a black hole where your stomach should be? And I made kotleta po-kievsky."

"Sounds cool." Whatever that is. "And for your information maybe I do. Maybe it's a medical condition I am very sensitive about and you're talking about it like it's nothing. Do you know what I live through in my day to day? The shame of it?"

Russia has returned to the oven to dish up himself. "Half the time I wonder if you actually believe what you are saying."

"Pft whatever. This is really good by the way." Though he could have just said that it's chicken kiev. Russia is pretty good at cooking, he has to admit.

"Good." Russia watches America as he impersonates a vacuum cleaner and smiles to himself before concentrating on eating.

A silence settles over them for a while, lasting past America going to get seconds. It is finally Russia who breaks it. "May I sleep in the bed tonight?"

Well that's a weird question coming from Russia. "...Since when do you ask? You even slept in the bed last night."

A mixture of surprise and sheepishness crosses Russia's face. He did not realize America was aware of that. "W-well... um, I did but I did not feel very welcome. That is why I made sure to be awake before you."

America leans his chin on his fist and regards Russia for a moment, tapping the table. He's pretty used to having him sleep in the bed, just like he's gotten used to having him around the house. "I guess so. It feels kind of pointless to say no at this point. I'm not really angry at you anymore."

Russia looks relieved. "Thank you."

"Whatever, just don't get too handsy." Like he always does.

"As you wish honey pie," Russia says with a small grin.

America grimaces. "...I'm going to vomit if you call me that again."

Russia laughs and stands, grabbing their plates. He kisses America's hair affectionately as he leans down to take his. America runs a hand through his hair, frowning. "Hey, uh, Ivan...How do you feel about..."

"Hm?" After dumping the plates in the sink Russia turns to look at him. "About what?"

"...The idea of watching a movie?" He might as well go throw himself off a cliff right now. He's pathetic and lame and useless.

America and his movies, he certainly does enjoy them. "If you would like. What did you have in mind?"

Holding back a sigh, America gets up. "I'll go pick something out."

~.

America stares hard at his reflection as he brushes his teeth. Alfred F. Jones is no coward. He has faced all sorts of villains and fought in all sorts of wars and has been a real class A hero if he does say so himself. So why can't he ask one stupid question all the way through? Why does it scare him more than ghosts even?

He spits and rinses his mouth. Why does he have to be plagued with all this confusion anyway? It was a lot easier when he couldn't stand Russia.

With a resigned groan he trudges to the bedroom. Russia is already waiting, flipping through some lightweight reading material America bought on a flight once then didn't even bother touching. America takes his glasses off and slips beneath the covers. "You going to be up much longer? I'm tired."

Russia closes the book immediately. It is hardly enthralling. A bit insulting to the world of literature if anything. "Nyet, I am ready to sleep."

Putting the book aside he turns off the bedside lamp and slides lower into the bed. Though America had said not to be handsy he cannot resist shifting closer and putting an arm around him, cuddling against the blond. He really is restraining himself the best he can after yesterday's fiasco but it's hard to do. He wants his cute little American so badly.

America grumbles softly but turns towards him anyway. He's too comfortable to sleep with for his own good. "Night."

"Goodnight." Russia pulls him a bit closer then closes his eyes. Today has been a rather good day for him overall.

Exhausted mentally and somewhat emotionally, America is relieved that rather than tossing and turning all night he falls asleep rather quickly.

~.

The next morning America wakes up with the feeling that he has just forgotten a rather good dream. He tries to snatch at some piece of it in hopes of pulling it all back but it eludes him completely and eventually he gives up.

When he opens his eyes the first thing he sees is Russia's still sleeping face. He stares at it for a moment. Russia looks so peaceful, almost serene. Sometimes he really can seem cute, as weird of a descriptive word for Russia that may be.

An odd urge overcomes America and he carefully brings his face closer. Very lightly he kisses the sleeping man's lips before pulling back.

"I thought you did not do morning kisses?" Violet eyes flutter open as a small smile crosses freshly kissed lips.

A small jolt goes through America. "I...I thought you were asleep. And I don't! That...was a morning peck."

Russia places a hand on the back of America's head and presses him closer. "Then please give me more morning pecks." America tries to push back away from Russia. Bridging the small gap between them, Russia leaves a light 'peck' on America's lips. "Ah, but how can you be satisfied with such a small taste?"

Smiling like the fiend he is, Russia presses a firmer kiss on America's mouth. America shakes his head to make it harder. "Stop it, it's gross!"

Why he thinks that is beyond Russia. "It is not Alfred. Now open your mouth more."

America tries to protest and Russia moves in quickly, lightly running his tongue over the other's as he presses their lips together.

It is gross! It totally is gross! ...Just not quite as gross as America remembers it being. (But still gross). Russia pulls back and gives America another peck. "If we practiced this more often I am sure you would get used to it."

"Who says I want to get used to it jerk?" America shoves at his face again, heartbeat thundering in his ears.

Giggling softly Russia nuzzles America's neck lightly. "You are so funny Alfred." Russia starts to sit up and America suddenly reaches up, pinching both of his cheeks. "Ouch! Was that necessary?"

America glares up at him and pinches harder before letting go. "Ivan, how...How do you feel about me?"

Russia reaches up and rubs one of his cheeks. "What?"

"How do you... I need to know how you feel about me! What you feel for me if anything." America's heart seems to be beating so hard he thinks it might burst.

Russia's hand falls away and he stares at Alfred. "How I feel about you..." That is a very good question...

* * *

**Translations**:

L'enfer est l'œil de la fleur de tournesol, le froid de la Sibérie!_ - _Hell is the eye of the sunflower, the chill of Siberia!

Mon petit chou - My little cabbage (a popular endearment believe it or not)

Ti moya prelest! - You are precious!

**Historical Note:**

Peter and his dwarfs: Here I am referring to Peter the Great, a Tsar of Russia. Standing around 6 ft 8 he was himself quite the physical peculiarity. He had a fondness for or interest in dwarfs. He even held a 'Dwarf wedding' for his favorite dwarf. Certainly an eccentric (albeit incredible) individual. **  
**

**Term**:

kotleta po-kievsky – Chicken kiev, a chicken dish with butter inside. It's freakin' delicious but I haven't had it in years.

**Seeking Assistance: **So the wonderful AmWatchingYou is now my Russian translator. I need something similar for French as that is also a language I use frequently and know very little about. I would prefer someone who is either first language French with very good English or second language French with a very good grasp on it. Not someone who has taken it for two years in high school. That way I can assure I am giving the most accurate translations I can! If you would like to help me send a message my way~


	45. Chapter 45

First may I start with saying wtf N. Korea, wtf

Second, congrats to xXKitsune KyuubiXx for getting a one shot for my 1,900th review! Almost 2,000 you guys, omg! Oh, and to people who are getting one, I swear I'll start on actually writing those again soon, I've just been distracted by my regular stories.

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For a while Russia stares at America. The question has taken him off guard, particularly after just having woken up. It must be a good sign if he wants to know, right? The thought makes Russia happy, excited even. Now all he has to do is answer. Though he's not too sure about how he feels about the American he will just have to answer as honestly as he can.

Russia reaches down and strokes America's cheek. "My feelings for you are... Well, I like you very much Alfred."

As Russia beams at him America tenses, waits for him to go on or expand on that, then realizes that's all he has to say. "...Oh."

A perplexed expression crosses Russia's face at the flat response. "Did I say something wrong?"

An automatic smile slices across America's face, hiding his disappointment. "Not at all. That's very... sweet."

Sweet... Is he hoping for something else? Russia has no idea. Perhaps he should tell Alfred that he feels pain in his chest sometimes, and that it is somehow connected to him. But surely Alfred doesn't want to hear that. It hardly sounds good or encouraging. Especially when Russia doesn't understand it and can't even pinpoint a reason for it. No, best to keep that to himself. Still, he feels like he has missed something important.

"Why did you want to know?" Russia tilts his head, hoping for some kind of answer that will help him assess the situation.

America fidgets, wishing he hadn't bothered. "...I dunno, just thought I'd ask."

Russia leans down and nuzzles America's cheeks, brushing his lips against it gently. "One of your whims? Mm... Do you like me too Alfred?"

America's stomach does a little flip and he wants to punch the idiot. "Sure, a whim. And I guess...I like you, too."

Once again Russia is beaming from the response and leans down to nip lightly at his neck. America vaguely wishes a little 'I like you' could make him so happy then violently pushes the thought away. He should be happy that Ivan doesn't love him. It's best if he doesn't, after all.

_Of course not, I'm not supposed to love him any more than I should want him to be in love with me. This has nothing to do with love._

Yeah...so why does it sting so much?

America pushes on Russia's chest. "Okay, okay, that's enough for first thing in the morning! Get up."

Russia wraps his arms around the flustered blond, giving him a very unconvincing pout. "Oh but I could never have enough of you no matter the time of day."

Snorting incredulously, America tugs himself free. "You say some of the most ridiculous things sometimes. Now off thou fiend from the depths of the frozen sea!"

Russia giggles and watches America take a few steps to put a safe distance between them. "I'm taking a shower. That isn't an invitation." He begins to go through some of his drawers and closet, snatching up clothes. All he wants is to have some space to himself. He pauses at the door and looks at Russia, who has sat up and started stretching. Anything he might want to say dies on his lips and he heads towards the bathroom.

The strange way America is acting has Russia concerned. Not that America doesn't act oddly all the time but the question... Did he answer correctly? He was honest. He does like America very much now, and it makes him almost giddy that America seems to like him too. What else might he have said? After dwelling on it a few moments longer he determines it is a perfectly good answer and he's over thinking things.

It's nothing in comparison to America. The moment he's in the shower his thoughts go into overtime. At first it's subtle but it bugs him more and more as time goes on. What the hell does that mean, Ivan 'likes him very much'? So he really likes him. Okay. Kid's really like cartoons. Is he supposed to be impressed?

Such thoughts plague him through his shower, as he dries himself off, as he brushes his teeth and hair, as he heads for the kitchen. Russia smiles at him and tells him he has made breakfast, putting a plate in front of him. As America stabs at the food his mood continues to sour as the thoughts continue to come more bitterly. Little old ladies really like their pet poodles, moths really like bright lights, people really like picking up a spare twenty bucks on the sidewalk for god's sake! What kind of hypocritical kingdom is he living in? What does that even mean? He has no idea but it pisses him off!

Russia watches America with rising concern. His expression seems to become more brooding by the moment. "...Alfred? Is everything alright?"

America blinks up at him. "Oh... Yeah. Fine." He raises his fork up but can't quite bring himself to put it in his mouth. He sets the fork down abruptly. "Actually... no, not really."

"No...? What's the matter?" Russia is immediately more alert, his posture straightening as he focuses his attention on America.

Canada had said he should find out how Russia feels before torturing himself over his own feelings. Is Russia even struggling with how he feels at all? What if America does somehow impossibly fall for him and he finds himself always waiting and hoping that Russia will eventually _maybe _fall in love with him too? He doesn't want to live in that kind of limbo, doesn't want to put himself through needless emotional strain that might never come to anything. Nearly feeling panicked his emotional defenses, which have gradually lowered around Russia, are back up and working in overtime to convince him not to do something potentially stupid that will get him hurt.

"...Have you ever thought that maybe just leaving things at a friends with benefits level is enough?" America doesn't allow his eye contact to waver no matter how much he wants to look away.

All Russia can do is stare at America, shocked by the statement. Haven't things been going so well between them lately? What happened? "Did I... Did I do something wrong Alfred? A mistake of some sort? The question this morning, did you-"

America cuts him off. "No! I mean... well just look at us. Neither of us are really cut out for that lovey relationship type stuff... I'm just saying there's nothing wrong with keeping things as they are now. Don't you think?"

Russia opens his mouth but nothing comes out. This is terrible. He has to do something. He needs time to figure things out. All he needs is a little more time! "Wait, wait Alfred... We... I mean..." Russia has to do something. "I will talk to my sister for you!"

"...Huh?" America looks at him blankly, not sure what the connection is.

Standing abruptly, Russia circles the table and takes America's hand. "I will talk to Natalya and make her leave you alone. You have dealt with your family and friends and have even helped me with Katyusha. Now I will talk to my sister for you."

America looks at him uncertainly. "Oh... uh, I mean that's great Ivan, really, but-"

Before he can continue Russia releases his hand. "I will prove my dedication to this Alfred. So please just wait."

With that he hurries out of the room to make some very last minute arrangements. America starts to stand then sinks back into his seat, a bit flabbergasted. While it's true Russia needs to confront his sister America doesn't know if it's a real show of dedication or just something he perceives as a task he needs to do. Another step to check off on his grand list. Still... America will let him do what he thinks he needs to do, no matter the true reason. If nothing else it will give him a little space to think things over.

~.

Russia stands at the front door, a bag in one hand. After pulling a few strings he had managed to get a private flight home. He's nervous but resolute on getting this over with if it will make America change his mind. Russia is determined to get their relationship to come to full fruition.

America stands in front of him, arms crossed and expression closed for once. "Well, good luck with your sister. I have a feeling you'll probably need it. ...I'm glad you're finally manning up about it though."

A small, uneasy giggle escapes Russia. "I shall do my best." After a moment of hesitation he walks forward and embraces America tightly, leaving a light kiss on his lips. "I will be back as soon as possible."

A little jolt seems to go through America and he mumbles unintelligibly. Russia's smile smooths over for a moment at his reaction as he lets go. With a small wave Russia heads out the front door and America watches him go. It's like watching a man go to his death. Then again Belarus wouldn't kill Russia. Just maybe kidnap him or something. Sounds about right. Maybe he'll have to send out a rescue party if Russia doesn't contact him after a week.

The house seems oddly quiet all of a sudden and America hurries to drowned it out with the drone of music. As for Russia, he heads towards the airport with growing dread. He has to do what he has to do. He just wishes it didn't have to involve Belarus.

~.

As the hours pass and the day wanes America finds himself filled with pent up stress energy. He can't keep his mind off what is happening with Russia and if he'll be alright and whether he'll be successful. Why does he even care when he had just proposed they remain friends with benefits?

A bit listlessly America brushes his teeth and gets ready to go to sleep. As he gets into bed he sprawls out. Shouldn't he be happy? For once he gets the bed all to himself without some giant taking up half the space. And yet he can't get comfortable or fall asleep. It feels like something is missing. A certain warmth... a certain person. He sits up in bed as the thought crosses his mind and smacks his forehead hard enough to give a normal person a mild concussion. What is he even thinking about?

_I'm being ridiculous about this. I have to forget about it. No matter what I am not focusing on having an actual relationship with Russia. Just fixing him._

America rubs his eyes tiredly. 'Well... I don't know about that anymore. I mean he needs some guidance but it's not like I can really fix Russia this way. And anyway this has to do with Ivan, not Russia. Maybe I should just forget about that...'

_How can I forget about it when that's been the incentive all along?_

An annoyed frown comes to America's face. 'No, that's _your _incentive_._'

There's a pause and Alfred realizes for the first time in a long time he has drawn a line between the part of himself that is the United States versus his personal self.

_You wouldn't even have given him a second chance to get this close if I hadn't wanted to fix him! _

Oh great, now it's mad at him. 'Yeah well, whose fault is this then? I was fine with chewing him out and never speaking him again! And now I'm-'

_You're what, in _love _with him?_

Alfred sits up straighter. 'N-no! I'm not... I...'

_Then why do you care? Why are you acting this way around him? Just what do you think you're going to get out of this anyway? Fixing Russia is one thing. If you go and fall for Ivan then you're inviting all sorts of problems for both our countries! Get real, you can't have a relationship with the representative of the Russian Federation!_

'W-well maybe I don't care! I mean, who cares if he only says he 'really likes me' and is a dense idiot who doesn't know how human emotions work? And anyway even if I did have feelings for him it's none of your business-' Alfred pauses, his eyes widening. "No... oh God no... Fuck!"

He throws himself onto his back and rubs his face in something close to despair. Things are dawning on him, clicking into place, and no amount of denial can make him ignore the horrific realization any longer. "I really am in love with him..."

_You are not! There's no way you can be-_

"Oh shut up! Alfred F. Jones can and will love whoever he damn well pleases!" America runs his hands through his hair as he sits up again. "...And I am without a doubt, as much as it causes me physical agony to admit it, in love with Ivan."

The realization is filled with lots of worry but also far more warmth than he is expecting. There's also a feeling like a giant weight being lifted off his heart by admitting it to himself. Determinedly ignoring any opinions the U.S. might have on the matter he starts to think it over. There's still no telling how Ivan feels about him, if he'll ever love him but...

Well didn't the big lug once say he thinks if he can just see Alfred being in love with him then he might fall in love too? It sounds kind of bogus to America, but maybe it'll work. Right... so once Russia gets back from his confrontation with Belarus then America will tell him he loves him.

The strong reluctance that has filled America for months is turning into a burning determination that Russia can surely appreciate. It should certainly please Russia anyway. It better, after all the turmoil he's put Alfred through getting him to this state. How annoying, that jerk might be downright smug about it. And if he is America will give him a little 'kiss' with his fist.

Despite his resolve America's hands are trembling. Not that the fantastic America is ever afraid, no not of anything ever in any dimension that has ever existed in the history of forever, but he does get a little nervous sometimes. Especially when it comes to things like relationships.

'It'll be fine, who can resist my unbelievably adorable charm and dashing good looks?' With the self-given assurance America tries to think of the manliest way to confess his feelings.

~.

It feels like it has been a long time when Russia enters his house, putting his bag down and looking around almost nervously. He can't even be sure Belarus is around but... Russia closes the front door behind him and walks further into the house. Where to start looking first?

Russia starts making a sweep of the first floor, increasingly considering running off and simply having a heart to heart with his sister over the phone...from several thousand miles away. Not here... Feeling a mixture of relief and a desire to find her and have it done with, Russia starts on the second floor.

It's starting to appear that Belarus is not around at all when Russia is bombarded in his own bedroom from behind. "Big brother, you're finally home!"

An iron grip tightens around his neck, temporarily cutting off his air supply. "N-Nata- c-can't breathe!"

The grip loosens and Belarus circles round, her usually grim expression currently quite bright. She hugs him around the middle. "Oh I knew you would eventually come to your senses and leave America! He's just not right for you, not at all big brother."

Very gently Russia puts his hands on Belarus's shoulders and pushes her back. His whole body is trembling but he has to do this, to be resolute."I...Natalya, I have not left Alfred. I...I intend to be with him. While I may not remain in his home all of the time it is my intent to remain in a relationship with him and...And I want you to leave him alone! You cannot keep attacking him. He is hardly manipulating me. I-if anything I have been the one heavily pursuing him. S-so please... please leave him alone?"

Wincing, he waits for the explosion. A rather scary look crosses Belarus's face but she seems to contain it for the moment. "...And why should I? I refuse to give up on you over some small matter like this!"

Russia swallows hard, trying to make his voice firm. "I-if you really love me then you will take my feelings into consideration and stand aside."

There is a silence that almost roars and Belarus stares at him, her lips twitching slightly. "If I... really love you...?" She lets out a shriek that makes Russia jump and slaps him sharply across the face. "If I really love you? How dare you? How _dare _you say that to me! If I really love you... I have loved you when no one else would even look at you! I have loved you when everyone else turned away! I have loved you even when you hurt me, and you dare imply I do not love you if I refuse to stand back and let someone else steal you away from me? Do you know how unbelievably idiotic that sentence is? Do you even have any vague idea what it means to love someone? If I really love you... If you really loved _me _you would never dare stand before me, your sister who has stood by your side through thick and thin, and throw my emotions back in my face for a man you probably aren't even capable of loving!"

Russia cringes away, not expecting the verbal barrage. "I..."

"Do you know what America said to me last time he talked to me? He thought that the way I pursue you is pathetic, that it's obvious you don't care for me. Well what do you think he thinks about you, if it's true you're the one who has pressed for this relationship? He probably thinks you're just as pathetic as I am! The only thing holding together your pathetic 'relationship' with him is your own selfishness! You're just doing what you've done time and time before, pulling people around, toying with them because it's the closest thing you can manage. You are incapable of loving someone else! You don't even know what it means to love someone because the only person you've ever cared about is yourself!"

Russia shakes his head, deeply hurt by his sister's harsh words. "That is not true! I...If I try I know I can. I know I can fall in love with him! I just-"

"You just what big brother? Face it, no matter how desperately you try, you can't love him! You can't love anyone!" The words seem to echo off the walls. Her eyes narrow like blades. "And no one loves you. Especially not America. Who could be capable of loving you but me, big brother? Who could love someone as cruel as you?"

Belarus starts crying and beating at his chest violently. "You're the worst, big brother. You're the worst person to love in the world!"

She pulls away, shaking her head violently as tears slide down her cheeks. She gives him an agonized look then runs from the room, still sobbing. Russia stares at the spot where she had been standing in shock. He backs up and sits on his bed, trying to process everything that has been thrown at him.

It isn't true... He can love... He can...can't he? And he isn't completely unlovable is he? Surely someone... Russia wracks his memory, desperately trying to think of someone, anyone other than his sisters who have ever claimed to love him.

No one... Not a single person comes to mind. Alfred... America... America has said he hates him on several occasions. The only reason they spent any time together in the first place is because Russia forced himself on America. If Russia disappears from his life he will probably be relieved...happy even.

Tears spring to his eyes as he contemplates these things. Why doesn't anyone love him? Why can't he seem to love anyone else? He is so lonely... Is that to be his fate then? Is this whole thing laughably pathetic? He came to do something for America but perhaps America doesn't care one way or the other if he does this. If he even comes back... Hadn't he suggested their relationship not progress further?

America will never love him, will he? Perhaps like him, pity him... but love? Why should he? And... there seems to be a chance that he will never come to love America. After all, even after their time together he hasn't felt that explosive sort of feeling described in so many of his source material on love. That overwhelming happiness or the sparks and fireworks.

Russia clutches his chest. It hurts... His heart aches even worse than it had before. Pain... So much pain. Surely that is a sign that things aren't going well. Perhaps it is time to face facts. That his crude attempt at love is a failure, that he has done nothing but harass America into a forced and confused friendship. Pain isn't a sign of love, it is an indication that something is wrong. Maybe it's time he acknowledges reality and removes the source of pain.


	46. Chapter 46

Ah sorry it's been so long poppets! Mm I decided to put a short family moment between Belarus and Ukraine in this chapter because in all my fanfic reading days I've only ever seen it once before.

**Edit:** Eh, I'm just not bothering to share my opinions on things anymore.

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The knock on the door startles Ukraine halfway through a sentence. It is a harsh knock, impatient and needy. Frowning a bit with concern she stands. "Well I wonder who that could be? Please, excuse me just one moment."

She leaves her guest and hurries towards the door. The knock comes again, more like someone simply pounding a fist against the wood than anything. Feeling a bit nervous she slowly opens the door until it is cracked enough for her to see who it is. When she realizes the identity of the knocker she quickly throws the door open. "Natalya dear! What are you doing here?"

Belarus glares up at her for a moment, eyes red from crying, not saying a word. As much as it stings to do so Belarus throws her pride aside as she rushes into her sister's arms, hiding her face in Ukraine's bountiful bosom. A small sob escapes her as fresh tears escape her. "Big sister, it's not f-fair!"

"O-oh! Oh...Oh Natalya... Shhh, it's alright dear, it's alright. Please don't cry." Ukraine begins to stroke Belarus's hair, rocking her gently. Hopefully nothing too serious has happened. It is very rare for her younger sister to come to see her when she's upset, let alone do so while crying like this. "What is the matter? Are you hurt? Please tell me!"

Belarus shakes her head, not answering but rather just letting her sister hold her for a while. After all, she always has been the 'little mama' of their lonely and dysfunctional trio. Though Belarus has always preferred big brother to comfort her, there are times when Ukraine is the better choice.

"Is everything alright Katy- M-Miss Belarus!" Lithuania freezes in the doorway then hurries over as he spots the crying girl. "Is something wrong?"

Belarus growls low in her throat, tightening her grip on Ukraine and throwing a displeased look Lithuania's way. "What is he doing here?"

Ukraine colors a bit. "H-he just came over for lunch. U-um..."

Lithuania coughs uncomfortably then reaches out timidly. "Is there anything I can-"

"Don't let him touch me!" Belarus snaps.

Ukraine gives him a weak, apologetic smile. "Do you think you could make some tea?"

He quickly nods. "O-of course, um... I'll be right back then. I hope everything is alright, truly."

Once he is out of the room Belarus makes a small 'hmph' sound. Lithuania can be such a nuisance and he's certainly the last person she wants to see right now. She has always found him to be tedious and the fact that big brother likes him so much makes him absolutely despicable. Why big sister is spending time with him is truly a mystery.

Ukraine continues to stroke Belarus's hair, trying to regain her composure. "N-Natalya... You should tell me what has you so upset. I'll do whatever I can, even if it's just listening."

Belarus furrows her brow at the distasteful subject. She double checks to make sure Lithuania isn't listening in then speaks softly. "Big sister... I said some terrible things... I didn't actually mean all of them. I was just being hateful because it's not fair!"

"What's not fair, dear?" Ukraine reaches down and tilts her face up. "Won't you tell me what happened?"

Belarus looks annoyed, even in grief. Her expression can seem so severe and stubborn at times. "...I got into a fight with big brother and said some unpleasant truths that he needed to hear. But I also said some things just to hurt him."

"Did you?" That explains it. Natalya is so very sensitive when it comes to their brother. "I'm sure it's not all that bad. You just have to talk it over with him, apologize for the bad things."

"...I don't want to. Not right now. He's the one being so irrational." What with being in love with that stupid America when she's such a better choice for him! Maybe it won't hurt him to feel some of that venom sink in. Not that she wants to really hurt Ivan, not at all, but her heart has been so heavy with the pain he has caused lately it's only fair he share some of it.

A distressed frown curves Ukraine's lips. "Now Natalya-"

Belarus leans against her sister again. "Do you mind if I stay here for a little while?"

Ukraine sighs softly. Things are always such a delicate dance between her siblings. "Of course solnishko, stay as long as you like. Will it be alright with your boss?"

Natalya nods. "Bat'ko will not mind. I can call him if necessary."

So long as it's not a long time it shouldn't be a problem. Her sister obviously needs her support. Ukraine takes hold of Belarus's hands. "Alright. In regards to this fight, if you have to, give it a little time so you can both think about things. I'm sure in a day or two you'll find you want to talk it over with Vanya and say you're sorry for the things you didn't mean. Maybe he'll have realized how he's being unfair to you and apologize, too. And you'll both feel much better once you have. Now, how about we see if the tea is almost ready?"

"Hmph." Belarus wipes at her face. She's not one for crying and never has been. She's not one for apologizing either. Eventually she will. Until then she'll remain with big sister and hopefully Lithuania won't be around to pester her too long.

~.

Russia runs his fingers over the small pin on his scarf, staring out the window. He has been thinking about things very carefully. Reviewing the past few months, what he has done and said, how America has reacted. It's almost embarrassing in hindsight. He really must look quite pathetic.

All Russia can do is try to focus on the positives that have come out of this. He has made new friendships and become closer to his sister. It will simply have to be enough for that human side of himself. He cannot offer anymore. He is incapable. That and the aching pain in his heart that just seems to get worse and worse will finally end. And so it seems his decision is made for him.

Would it make a difference if America had fallen in love with him? It's the one thing he can't help but wonder about. But of course it doesn't matter, a null question. It's not like Alfred ever will.

~.

At first America dreads the thought of receiving a call from Russia telling him that he has returned. He isn't prepared, hasn't thought of a good way to confess yet. As one day stretches to two, then to three his feelings begin to turn more to confusion, mild concern, then slight irritation. Where is Russia and why hasn't he called yet? Surely Belarus hasn't actually kidnapped him? Missing in action... it's no good but America holds off on calling him. If he really hasn't called within a week then he'll start to panic.

It is a little past two a.m. on the fourth morning when America's cellphone goes off, waking him from an iffy sleep. He stares at it uncomprehendingly for a long time before fumbling to answer it. He squints, trying to read the name but having a hunch as to who it is. Sure enough it says Vanya.

America answers, just a little bit irritated that Russia can't seem to be bothered to call at a more decent hour. "Do you have any idea what time it is? Where have you been?"

There is a moment of silence and then, "...Please come see me."

At first America doesn't know what to say in response to the bizarre greeting. "Ivan?"

"Da."

There's something in Russia's voice that concerns him. Does he... does he almost sound like he is crying? America sits up, immediately concerned. "...Where are you? I can be there immediately."

"Bol'shoe spasibo, Alfred." He gives America his location and a room number.

"You're in the States? When did you get here? Why didn't you tell me when you arrived?" America turns on his bedside table lamp, trying to put Texas on one handed.

"I entered the country about four hours ago. I've been...building myself up to call you."

Building himself up? What is going on? The hotel Russia has given him isn't too far away luckily. "I'll be there in an hour, hour and a half at most."

"...Please hurry Alfred."

America is even more concerned. Russia is not being himself at all. Something must have happened. "I will. Screw an hour or more, I'll be there in thirty minutes. Just you wait and see." There is no response. "Ivan? You there?"

A pause. "Da."

"Are you alright?"

A longer pause. "...Da."

America doesn't believe him one little bit. "I'm comin' for ya Vanya, so just sit tight."

The connection is ended and America frowns. What is going on? It's really making him seriously nervous. Is he going to arrive to find Belarus holding him hostage by knife point in an attempt to lure him out and kill him or something? Or ninja assassins even? One never knows. America runs around like a chicken with its head cut off getting dressed and trying to find his wallet which has gone maddeningly missing. The second it's in his hand he's out the door and booking it down the street in search of a taxi cab.

About forty minutes later he is at a cheap hotel standing in front of the room Russia gave him. Feeling apprehensive he knocks. Damn, maybe he should have brought a gun? Too late now. A minute later the door opens. America stiffens, expecting it to be held open by a stranger with evil intent. Rather, it's Russia, who quickly releases the door and walks back into the room. He takes a seat on what looks like an odd attempt at a mixture of a couch and chair.

A bit perplexed and perturbed, America enters the room and looks around. There are a few vodka bottles spread around the room on available surfaces. "Uh... Are you drunk?"

Russia sighs sadly and picks up a half-full (soon to be completely empty) vodka bottle. "I am almost buzzed, as you would say. It is very difficult to have such a high tolerance sometimes."

No kidding. A normal human being would be dead twice. Even most of their kind can't drink so much. "I see... Er... Ivan what the hell? What's wrong? Did Belarus... I mean did everything go alright with her?"

"Nyet, I do not think so. Our conversation went rather poorly and I did not see her again after it was concluded." Russia drains a third of the content of his bottle.

"Oh? That's uh... too bad. I'm sorry to hear that. Uh..." America is at a loss on what to say at the sight before him. Russia looks... well, not great. He does look like he's been crying, and hasn't been sleeping on top of that.

America further enters the room, his hero instincts tingling. "Ivan, you need to tell me what happened right now."

Russia looks up at him slowly, his expression pained. His fingers go unconsciously to stroke the small sunflower pin America had given him. This is for the best...for both of them. "Alfred... I think you were right."

When Russia doesn't continue America raises an eyebrow. "...Well of course I was, I'm right about everything all the time. What specifically was I right about?"

After another long interval of silence that makes America highly uncomfortable he answers. "...We should not attempt to progress any further relationship-wise. It has become obvious to me that I have been acting completely irrationally. I do apologize for that and for wasting your time."

It seems like all the air has been sucked out of America's lungs. "You don't...want to be with me?"

Russia traces his finger along the rim of his vodka bottle. "...It was illogical to ever assume we could be together. I do want to thank you for your patience with me and your companionship. If you do not find it too tedious perhaps we can continue on with that. I would like it very much."

"To remain friends." America feels numb.

"Da, just friends." Even the benefits aspect might be too much all things considered.

"Oh." It sort of feels like gravity has suddenly been turned up too high, but only on the space around America's heart.

Russia glances over at him. "I am sure that must be a relief for you to hear."

America swallows hard, ignoring the comment completely. "Wh-what about...what about your plan and your... your loneliness and everything?"

"You have helped me directly or indirectly in building or reinforcing old and new ties with various people. I am far better off than I was before. I will be alright I think. Thank you for everything Alfred, I do want you to know I appreciate what you have taught me and much of what you have done for me. I just wanted to let you know that you will not have to worry about tolerating my odd behavior any longer. I really did... have fun with you, Alfred. I shall leave you alone from now on. That is all I had to say. You may leave now if you wish. I know it is late."

With that the conversation seems closed. America continues to stare for a long moment. And that's it? Months of the most insane, topsy turvy, sexual harassment filled, emotionally draining, and confusing courtship that mankind has probably ever known and it's just over? Just like that? It's not fair... It's absolutely not fair at all!

America opens his mouth but words fail him. Emotions fail him. His heart in particular has failed him for making him think this might actually work out. Mouth closing, America nods to no one in particular then silently leaves the room, shell shocked. He walks down the hall then ducks into the ice room, losing himself against the loud hum of the machine.

It seems everyone had been right about this. England, Japan, Canada, even his country half. Is he really the only one so stupid he didn't see it coming? Intense pain shoots through his chest and he leans against the ice machine, sinking to the ground and hugging his knees.

And why should he be so upset? Isn't this exactly what he said he wanted from Russia? Just remaining friends with benefits? Now he doesn't even have to worry about the benefits. For the first time the big stupid idiot has gone and listened to him.

America really must have been insane. Thinking this might work out just because he's gone and decided he's in love with Russia? This is what he's been afraid of. Only seems fitting it's been confirmed. Russia doesn't love him and isn't even interested in trying anymore? And what is Alfred supposed to do, go and make a total fucking idiot of himself by telling Ivan he has gone and fallen in love with him? Right, and have Russia reject him a second time? Fuck... Fuck!

America buries his face against his knees. This sucks, it's the absolute worst in the world. Well everyone should be pleased as fucking punch about this. Belarus and Japan in particular. He can feel the mild self-satisfied 'I told you so' vibe from the very smug country side of himself, having a matter of fact feeling to it. It just pisses him off all the more.

Why is he so fucking stupid for believing that maybe... America tightens his grip around his legs. The buzz of the ice machine masks the sound of his sobs well. Talk about an unexpected blow. It really hurts... It's everything that reminds America why he doesn't try to have relationships.

Once he's gotten the worst of it out he wipes his eyes and cleans his glasses. Russia... Russia had been crying too. Whatever happened with Belarus must have been pretty upsetting. Is that when he realized he didn't feel anything for America and apparently couldn't be bothered to try? The thought stings but still, he's obviously really in bad shape.

America rests his chin on his knee, thinking about it. Russia is in need of some support and maybe comfort too. He can throw himself his own little pity party whenever he wants. And he sure as heck will, with himself as the guest of honor (of course). But for now he's not the only one hurting. Russia can't be blamed for not loving him. It's his own damn fault for letting himself give in (though it sure as hell is Russia's fault for shoving him so roughly into this direction). A hero thinks of everyone else before himself.

What to do, what to do...

~.

A while later Russia has finally achieved a mild buzz and has run out of vodka. He's all set to give up and just try to fall asleep when there's a knock at his door. Surprised and vaguely annoyed someone is bothering him he gets up and opens it. Any reprimand to leave him alone dies on his lips as America smiles at him, holding a large brown paper bag and a case of beer.

"Hey! You know you better be grateful, I was having a hell of a time trying to figure out what makes a 'good' vodka. This stuff is expensive! You going to let me in or just stand there and stare at me all night?" When Russia continues to stare at him with a dumb look on his face America pushes past him, setting the beer down.

Russia gapes at him, not believing his eyes in the least. "...You came back."

"Yep, sorry it took so damn long. The place where I went, the guy was all suspicious over my fake I.D. I had to be real smooth about it to convince him that an extra twenty would make him not give a fuck. Which by the way, do you know how obnoxious it is to be as old as me and still need to use a fake I.D. to buy alcohol? I mean really now! Who was it, Italy or something once told me he doesn't even have a drinking age! Just give 'em a bottle when they're babies I guess. Ugh, it's still better then when I had prohibition. I had to stock up at foreign meetings and smuggle it into the country or else do my patriotic duty and support shady illegal boozing. Thank god that ended-"

"Alfred," Russia all but snaps to cut off his flow of words. "Why are you here?"

"...Why?" America tilts his head, giving him a surprised look. "Well isn't that what friends are for?"

Russia is once again speechless. America pulls out the new bottle of vodka and presents it to Russia. "For you. I'll just be drinking beer. If you don't want to talk about it that's fine with me. I'm just here for emotional support blah, blah, blah bullshit actually it's an excuse to drink."

As he grins at Russia, Russia can't help but weakly smile back, confused more than anything. "Thank...you?"

"No problemo!" America smacks his arm in a friendly gesture hard enough to bruise then walks back over to the beer, cracking one open.

Russia really doesn't know how to react to this at all. He had expected America to have a party celebrating his new found freedom away from him, calling his friends. What friends are for... Russia quickly opens the bottle and chugs some of it down, desperately confused.

America makes himself comfortable on the bed and Russia takes an apprehensive seat back where America first found him, watching the other almost mistrustfully. There is mostly silence, sometimes broken by pieces of casual conversation. America goes through the beer pack at amazing speeds, trying to hold himself together so he can be supportive of Russia.

When America is all out of beer he sighs, crossing his arms behind his head. "So...Your boss must be pretty happy about all this."

Russia stiffens for a moment then slowly relaxes. This is still very odd to him. Shouldn't America be overjoyed with his sudden release from Russia rather than sit here drinking with him? "Um...I have not told him yet. He will not be displeased, certainly. Your boss is sure to be happy about it, I am sure."

"Mm? Yeah I guess, considering it's all ending on a good note and all..." America frowns severely at an empty beer can, wondering why he didn't get more. "Y'know...you've had some crazy fucking bosses. I mean...didn't...didn't you have that Dracula vampire guy as a boss?"

"...Dracula vampire...who?" Russia isn't quite sure who that's supposed to be.

"Oh you know, the vampire Dracula guy! That one was yours...?" America suddenly frowns, not sure if he's remembering correctly.

Something clicks. "Oh, Vlad Tepes? You're thinking of Romania, Alfred."

America snorts. Close enough. "Right right, I should've remembered. Romania, Dracula's castle. I can imagine you having a vampire boss, though."

"I suppose I have had some unusual leaders but none of them were vampires, I can assure you."

"Yeah but I just said I can _imagine _it and... Okay, Theodore Roosevelt, come back to life obviously, and Vladimir Putin have a manly fight, who wins?" Russia stares blankly at America, not sure what he's going on about. "Neither, the world just like... explodes. From manliness."

Russia's concern is rising by the moment. "...Alfred, are you drunk or just being particularly stupid right now?"

"Hey!" America gives him a warning look. "I'm not stupid... I'm just awesome. And slightly intoxicated, but not drunk."

"Alfred...Why are you still here? Why have you not left yet? I do not understand." It's disconcerting and confusing more than anything. America does not love him, so why is he here? If it was him and he was in America's position he would have left the moment he had heard the verdict.

"...I want to make you feel better. You're obviously...really upset and all..." America bites the inside of his lip hard, pushing back a feeling of impending gravity. He can be all crushed by his own misery later. For now he has to be stronger than that because...because he doesn't know why, he just knows he does. "...And we're friends."

Another odd moment of silence passes between them. America starts to wonder, very seriously, why he is here and not moping around his apartment. It's taking everything he has to hide the pain. Is he a masochist, letting Russia's very presence rub it in? He's been rejected. Once again, no one particularly wants him around. And yet he's not getting up to leave.

Russia is turning the simple words over in his mind again and again. Something about the taste of them alludes him but it makes his chest tighten unpleasantly. What is this feeling? If only he can grasp it, even a small piece...

America speaks again, patting the bed next to him. "Hey, come over here. I want to sit with ya for a while and you're too far away."

A beat of hesitation, then Russia stands slowly and sits down on the bed, not able to relax. "...I do not understand you at all Alfred. As much time as we have spent together, I simply do not."

"Well...I think that's okay. There's still a ton I don't understand about you either. I think I know more about you than I did before." At least he had thought he did. So much for that. "...Was it terrible? Whatever...upset you? If you don't want to talk about it that's okay but whatever it is obviously upset you a lot, huh?" America looks up at him, gaze wandering then jumping back to his face.

Russia looks away from him. "I realized something about myself. It was not a pleasant truth but one I had to acknowledge."

Something almost bitter rises up in America. Was Russia's realization that he couldn't possibly love him? Not capable of loving such an idiot? He curbs the pain and instead takes a hold of Russia's arm out of an impulse that mildly startles both of them. Even after an awkward moment of uncertainty America does not let go and Russia does not pull away, both uneasily settling this way.

Russia does not mind the silence, but once again America is thwarted by his desire for noise. "You know... You know what's kind of silly? I don't like sequels very much for films that kind of wrapped up with the 'and they all lived happily ever after' kind of ending. I mean... You already know they lived happily ever after. No one wants to know what happened after that. Everyone knows real life isn't that simple, so why do they have to push it in the fictional world? Why can't they just keep that nice, fuzzy happily ever after?"

What is Russia supposed to say to this new tangent? He is not as into films as America is and has never had a problem with darker endings. "...I do not know Alfred. Maybe because people know that life is not that simple they wish to explore what comes after."

America snorts. "Or they really like money. Seriously, it bugs me. I want one y'know."

"You want one what?" It really is quite difficult to follow America sometimes.

America looks up at him, his gaze firmer than before and oddly serious. "A happy ending." Russia is struck with silence. An almost nervous smile twitches on one side of America's lips. "I really do. One of the saddest days in my whole life was when I realized those don't exist for our kind."

America sighs softly and leans against Russia's arm, no longer looking at him. He doesn't wait for prompting to continue. "It was sort of towards the very end of the second World War. I mean, the first one had been bad enough and then we were doing it all over again and it was so much worse that time. So much... I guess at one point I suddenly wondered if we were just going to get stuck in a loop and do it over and over and over again until there was nothing left of us. And that's when it occurred to me. We live for such a long time. Some of us are really old. And if our life comes to an end...it's not because we've lived out a full, rich life and now it's winding down, it means something has gone horribly wrong. It means a sort of death to our people, our culture, our history... We do not have endings, happy or otherwise. We simply...disappear. Erased until we are just vague names. And who remembers us, huh? Us as people who have suffered and fought and dreamed and loved?"

Russia has an unusual urge come over him to comfort America, to protect him. It takes him off guard and he is frozen. Finally his voice escapes his paralysis of uncertainty. "We remember each other Alfred. And if there comes a day when we too are all gone, and perhaps there are new ones...then it does not really matter at all, does it? But in the mean time we hold those memories of one another. Look how strong that can be. As loathsome as it is Prussia is still alive, potentially based solely on his brother's determination that he should be. Maybe we do not get happy endings...but we are not 'erased' as you think we are. There is always something that remains behind I think. Our feelings and struggles and lives are not any less legitimate than any human's."

America slowly looks up at Russia. A smile gradually forms, warmer than his earlier one. "That's true... I guess that's okay then."

"Admittedly I am surprised. So even you have such thoughts little one?" Russia finds himself reaching up to brush a few strands of hair from America's forehead.

America gives him a dirty look. "Who are you calling little one? I'm not that much shorter than you. And you don't have to act so surprised. I'm not _completely _stupid or anything."

Russia finds himself giggling softly. "But you are still a little bit stupid?"

"Oh shut up you!" America glowers then snorts with amusement despite himself. It almost feels like everything is back to normal. But of course it's not. In the morning Russia will go home and America will get used to sleeping alone again. "Hm...I'd still like one, though. Even if a happily ever after isn't really possible for us. It sounds nice. I won't give up on it."

It's a ridiculous notion but Russia finds for once he does not have the heart to tell him so. "Perhaps you will have one someday Alfred."

America stares at Russia, his chest tightening again. Swallowing hard he leans in, bringing his face towards Russia's. A small flush of heat goes through Russia's cheeks as America comes closer to him. Is he going to kiss him...?

An unusual expression crosses America's face, something almost like pain or despair, and he suddenly releases Russia's arm and flips over. "So, uh, I actually have a meeting tomorrow in the afternoon. I think I briefly mentioned it a while back. Gotta get a little bit of sleep at least. So good night."

Russia looks at America's back, which looks very tense. Why does he feel oddly disappointed? "...Of course. Good night."

Taking a second to put his glasses on the side table America then buries his face against the pillow. What, is he that stupid? Why would he almost let himself kiss Russia? He probably would have pushed him away or given him this blank look followed by a 'What part of I do not wish to be with you do you not understand' or something. It was stupid to come back but he just... he doesn't want to say goodbye yet. Russia is such a fucking idiot.

Russia feels chaos starting to build within himself. Before, his decision to let Alfred go had been so firm but now it seems almost wrong. America has not expressed unhappiness over his decision but he has not really seemed joyful about it either. And returning, saying they are friends... Why is this so difficult?

Hours after America has forced himself into some semblance of sleep, Russia continues to watch him. A couple hours before dawn has broken he finally settles down on the bed, staring at America's back. The urge to reach out and put an arm around him or press against him is strong but he resists. He doesn't have a right to do those things now that he has severed their courtship.

Instead Russia begins to stroke the sunflower pin again. He falls asleep, fingers still lightly pressed against the metal and an unexpected heaviness hanging over him.

~.

Russia awakens to pale light streaming weakly past dingy curtains that have been pulled open since last night. He sits up slowly. A quick glance around the room confirms that he is alone. So America is gone. For some reason it leaves Russia feeling oddly empty.

That's it then. He'll return to Russia and it will be over. He won't be pursuing America or wooing him. It's all done with... Why does that sound so bleak? As he is debating whether he should get something to eat or just drink more vodka before planning his trip home the door opens.

America walks through it with a bag in one hand and balancing a drink carton in the other. "Good morning! I brought you breakfast. I hope you don't mind Micky D's. I brought some coffee and creamer and stuff, too."

Russia stares at America in disbelief. America laughs at the reaction. "Well you don't have to look at me like that. I know it's fast food and all but it's not that horrible."

Russia shakes his head. "N-no, thank you..."

America sits on the edge of the bed and opens the bag. "Let's see... You can have this one. Careful with the coffee, if you can't tell by the million warning signs, it's hot. Russian is probably on there somewhere."

America hands him a wrapped breakfast sandwich. Russia starts to unwrap it, stealing continuous glances at America. "Um...About last night..."

America hesitates for a moment. "...What about last night?" He takes a bite of his breakfast and looks inquisitively up at Russia.

Russia finishes unwrapping his breakfast sandwich. Maybe he doesn't want to discuss it. "U-um...nothing. I appreciate that you came at such short notice then stayed with me. I am sure it was not the most valuable use of your time."

Staring at his breakfast for a moment America finally manages to muster a smile for him. "Don't be ridiculous! It was the least I could do after all under the laws of heroism and friendship and stuff."

"...Mm." Russia looks uncertainly at the 'food' in his hand, sniffing it. "Are you sure this is edible?"

America rolls his eyes. "I eat it all the damned time. It's fine I swear."

Russia takes a reluctant bite. Well... It is food. Not necessarily something he'd usually want to eat, but it is breakfast. Besides, he appreciates that America has gone through all the trouble to get it for him. Next to him America silently finishes off his first McMuffin and starts on a second one he pulls from the bag.

Why _has_ America gone through all the trouble of doing this? Not just breakfast but staying with him through the early morning hours as well and comforting him. For friendship? Is that really what it is? It is admittedly nice to have someone to wish him a good morning and offer him breakfast.

"Ah, d-dobroe utro. I forgot, to say good morning back."

America looks at him and gives him an awkward smile. "You're funny Ivan."

As America takes another bite Russia picks up his coffee and sips at it. The stuff is scathingly hot. How useless. He grimaces and puts it back down. For a while the only sound is of America chewing and the occasional crinkle of the wrapper. Once he's done he balls it up and puts it in the bag he brought. There are more but for once he doesn't have very much of an appetite. "I guess I should be going now... I still have to go take a shower and get changed and mentally prepare myself so I'm not bored to death. I'll tell my boss about this sometime later. I guess...I won't be seeing you much now, huh? Maybe I'll catch you at the next meeting or something."

"...Da, something." This feels wrong... Earlier it had seemed like the best decision but now it just... "A-Alfred, I um... I thought I should give this back."

Russia reaches up and fiddles with the pin on his scarf, unhooking it. Reluctantly he holds it out for America to reclaim. Tilting his head America walks back and looks at the sunflower pin. He really had been acting so girly when he bought that for Russia. He had tried so hard to deny it. A shame he didn't hold out a while longer. The lie might have been enough to get him through this with less emotional damage.

Laughing softly America curls Russia's fingers around the pin. "And what am I supposed to do with something like that? It's more your style. Besides, it was a gift. Taking gifts back is tacky, and I am one classy guy. So...keep it."

Russia holds the enclosed fist near his chest, as if holding something precious and delicate. "...Thank you."

America shrugs. Having something like that around will just be a reminder anyway. He'll throw all the sunflowers away first thing. "No problem. See ya around I guess."

With a wave he turns and starts to leave. He hesitates in the doorway. This is it, the end. It all seems like such a waste. Whatever, he's the United States of America. Like he's going to let something like this get him down.

Alfred wishes he could be more convincing.

Taking the last few steps out of the hotel room he lets the door close without looking back once. If nothing else he still has his pride. If nothing else it's enough to keep him smiling even when it hurts the most.

All Russia can do for a long time is stare at the small sunflower he holds in his hand. He suddenly closes his fist tightly around it, the points of the petals digging into his skin. Why? This makes no sense. Russia has broken off his attempt at a relationship with Alfred. Things should be better now. Instead the pain in his heart is far worse than it ever was before. It feels like he's losing something important, something he needs...

Russia's head is filled with thoughts that are slowly becoming one solid thought. That Russia likes having someone to talk to intimately and late into the night, to tell him good morning the next day and share breakfast with. He likes having someone to tease and molest and argue with. But most of all, he likes that person to be Alfred. In fact, that is the only person that will do. But does that mean he feels...

What does he feel exactly? He was in pain with America and now he's in worse pain without him. What kind of feeling is that? Love isn't supposed to be painful is it? It's such a conflicting emotion.

At his wits end Russia decides to make an emergency call to Italy. He paces restlessly as the phone rings, hoping he won't be tied up with Germany.

Italy's chipper voice greets him. "Ciao, Russia! How are you this lovely day?"

Russia hesitates, trying to figure out how to ask. "...Italy. What...How would you describe what love feels like?"

"Oh? Love... Ve... I guess it's just like this super melty feeling, like getting the best pasta in all the world for every meal of the day! And you just want to hug and kiss the person, and enjoy the cakes they make you!"

Russia's heart seems to sink. Of course, that's what everything had described it as more or less. Something light and wonderful. "So it is not painful..."

Italy speaks, his voice softer, a little more serious. "Oh no, it is painful too. And scary. I remember when I didn't know how Ludwig felt about me yet. Being around him made me feel so warm inside, but whenever I thought maybe he didn't love me too my heart hurt so much I thought it would break. It was similar when I thought Prussia was doing weird things with him, it made me so angry and jealous and it just...hurt. Love hurts too, sometimes more than it feels good. But if you love the person enough it's all sort of worth it, don't you think? Is...America causing you pain?"

That pain... Russia's eyes widen. Did... did he feel that pain because he had thought America might not like him too? So that means... It's like something finally, _finally, _clicks and all the pieces come together at once. "...Italy I have to go, thank you."

Russia hangs up without getting a response, holding a hand over his mouth. All this time he has thought he has been doing something wrong, that he hasn't been capable of loving America. But that's wrong... He does. He loves America. No, not America. Ivan is in love with Alfred.

A small giggle escapes him followed by a sob and the next thing Russia knows he's laughing and crying, not sure where one action begins and the other ends. He is capable of loving someone else, he _does _love someone else. There is still pain but suddenly there is also a lightness, a happiness that melts something inside of him. Perhaps the very thing that has sent him on this quest to begin with.

And then a shiver of fear goes down his spine. He's told America he's no longer interested in pursuing a relationship with him and he's going to tell his boss that things are over between them. Surely he won't be the only person America will inform either.

Russia begins to wipe at his face and dash around his hotel room then bursts out the door at a full run. He starts dialing America's number and finds that his phone is off. Of course, the one time the idiot doesn't have his cellphone on...

If it's the last thing he does Russia has to get to America before he leaves for that meeting and tell him how he feels. And hopefully... Hopefully it won't be too late.

* * *

Translations:

Solnishko - Sunny

Bol'shoe spasibo — Thank you very much (from the bottom of the heart)

Bat'ko - Dad, "father", boss, master, lord, kingpin, number one - basically the Elder.

Dobroe utro — good morning

**AN: **So this is my last update of this story for the year. Sorry! I want to try and update some of my other poor neglected stories, get around to some one shots, and also I'm going to be gone for a week at the end of the month. Spending my twenty first birthday in the most magical place on Earth...because I'm cool like that -laughs- Happy holidays and a happy New Year my dears~ **  
**


	47. Chapter 47

I apologize profusely for how long this took to get out, I really did not expect it to take so long. Mm, I would just quickly like to give a huge special thank you to my anonymous reviewers. Some of the sweetest words I've received are from you and because I can't message you a thanks, it is here. Thank you so much!

(Also for anyone who cares, Evangelion 2.0 You Can (Not) Advance was fucking amazing and reminded me why I love anime a little bit)

* * *

When Russia gets to the street there is no sign of America. Of course in his time talking to Italy the other has surely already caught a cab, on his way home. Still, he can't be that far ahead of him. He looks around desperately for one of his own. Every second he is not telling Alfred of his new-found feelings is wasted time.

He finally spots a cab stopping for a businessman a little ways up and sprints over, knocking the man down before he even knows what has happened. Slamming the door hard behind him he breathlessly gives the cab driver America's address. The cab driver doesn't even raise an eyebrow as he takes off.

Russia takes a deep breath and sits back, foot tapping impatiently. He must tell Alfred... He must tell him that he loves him!

~.

America enters his apartment and it feels too big, too quiet, too empty. He tells himself he's imagining it and kicks the door shut behind him. There's not much time left before his meeting. So, prioritize. He's all good in the eating department so maybe a shower next. Fresh clothes... fresh start.

As America walks through his house he ignores a feeling that's trying desperately to crash in on him. He doesn't let himself feel the weight, the gravity of Ivan's words. It doesn't matter. Stupid Russia, none of it...

Silence overcomes America for a moment as he throws his bedroom door open. Ivan's sunflowers sit on the other side of the room, most of them drooping as if to avoid looking at him. Those that are turned towards him seem to stare as if asking 'Well what did you expect from the sunflower devil?'

A sick feeling overwhelms America and he quickly turns, hurrying back out towards the living room. He hugs himself tightly, trying to push everything away again. But this time it refuses to be ignored and there are no more fake smiles left in him. The pain comes over Alfred like a wave and no matter how stupid he feels for it, no matter how angry it makes him, the tears come and they won't seem to stop. Hadn't he cried the night before? That should have been it.

Heroes aren't supposed to cry...but America finally decides when the stream of tears refuses to shut off that maybe it's alright as long as heroes cry alone. And so with no one to judge him but himself, Alfred stands in the middle of the room bawling like a child. He can't even remember how long it has been since his heart ached so much.

A loud thump startles him and he turns just as the door is almost ripped from the hinges as Ivan forces himself inside. "Alfred!"

Tears still running down his face, America can only stand frozen in shock as Russia hurries over to him and grabs his hands roughly. "A-Alfred I have something I absolutely must- Alfred...Are you crying?"

America finally comes to his senses and stiffens, his face flushing. What the hell is Russia doing here catching him at this extremely vulnerable and embarrassing moment? He chokes out the first response that comes to him through his blubbering. "I...I was just thinking of a cat with no legs! What's it to you?"

"A cat with...?" Russia gives him a curious look, somewhat taken off his train of thought. America really does think about the strangest things. No time for that. "I...oh. Why...? Nyet, that is not important. Alfred, I... I have to tell you something! It is very important so promise me you will listen?"

Something... What can he possibly have to say to him after telling him that things will never work out between them? A lump rises in America's throat and he swallows hard. "...I guess."

Distressed by the sight of Alfred's tears, even if they are for the thought of a cat with no legs, Ivan reaches up to brush them away. "I know what I said earlier... that I did not think it would ever work between us. But you see, I was simply confused. I did not understand and I have to tell you that I was also wrong. I thought that I could not feel anything for you but it is actually the opposite. Alfred... Alfred I am in love with you! I love you, you see?"

The words taste sweet on his tongue now. Not awkward and unnatural as they had before. But America does not look particularly pleased in the least and he's pushing Ivan's hand away. "...Excuse me?"

Perhaps America is just confused. It is quite sudden. "I figured it out after talking to Italy once you had gone. I am actually in love with you, Alfred. I-"

Rage wells up inside America and he pushes Russia back hard enough to knock him to the ground. America's tears have been stopped by his anger and he wipes at his face impatiently. "You love me? What do you think you're doing Ivan? Are you trying to fuck with me? Toy with me some more? Seriously, who the hell do you think you are? You dare say that to me after last night? Huh?"

Russia gingerly eases himself back onto his feet. "You misunderstand Alfred! I am not lying to you! I really do love-"

A bark of cynical laughter escapes America. "You fell in love with me from the time I left your hotel to the time it took me to get back? I don't think so. I have no idea what new experiment this is for you but I won't be your fucking lab rat. Not this time!"

"No! No Alfred please listen to me! You do not understand! I am trying to explain it to you, just let me-" He holds his hands out in a peaceful gesture, expression beseeching. "Please..."

America's jaw tightens. Heartbreak is hard enough. The fact that Ivan has come back to humiliate him on top of that is too much for him. "No! I'm so sick of hearing your bullshit. I don't want to listen to you anymore!"

"You have to!" Russia feels desperation creeping into his voice. America has to understand, he has to, he simply has to. "Just once, please? Please hear me out one last time. If you do not find what I say satisfactory then by all means send me away but not until I have explained myself!"

There is a very long, very tense pause. Ivan doesn't know what he will do if Alfred refuses him. He simply cannot let America slip through his fingers now that he's realized what he feels. America rolls his tongue in his cheek, glaring hard at Ivan. "...You have five minutes then I want you to get the hell out of my house."

Five minutes. It is all he needs. "Earlier than this, back when you returned from Japan's home I noticed a pain in my heart that was related to you somehow. I did not know what to make of it at first and so I partially ignored it. When I went to talk to Natalya she said cruel things to me. Much of it was true to an extent and that is perhaps what made it so painful. But she said I was incapable of ever loving you or anyone else and that you did not love me either. You had just said you were only interested in being friends with benefits and there was that strange pain I associated with you and so I thought that our attempting a relationship was pointless. I was wrong. I realized that when you stayed with me, when you came back when you did not have to. You made me see it. You did not have to stay Alfred, but you did, and it hurt so much more because I was so confused. Once I spoke to Italy after you left I realized it clearly. The pain is one of love. I love you Alfred, so very much, and I no longer feel as if my life is complete unless you are in it."

America is silent, digesting the words, reevaluating what all of this means if anything. Russia gently takes his hand. "I know I am not good at this. I am awkward and this is the first time I have ever loved another person in this way. This has nothing to do with tests or experiments but rather is something I know I feel from within myself. If... I know it is selfish but if you could give me a little time, perhaps you can be persuaded to love me too, even a little bit?"

America looks at the hand holding his, at the pleading look on Russia's face that's so damn sincere it's disgusting. Some big misunderstanding huh? This is like the plot to some terrible love story. The worst part of all is he knows there's no changing what his response will be now that he's heard all that cheesy crap. He looks away from Ivan and glares at the wall. "It's too late you know."

Too...late? It suddenly feels like something is suffocating Russia and his hand begins to tremble. It can't be too late. Now now that he's finally... "Please do not say-!"

Turning his gaze back, America pulls his hand away and reaches up to pinch both of Russia's cheeks sharply. "I already fell in love with you. Big idiot."

The sharp pain might as well not exist as the words process. Something warm and wonderful and unbelievably awe inspiring wells up in Ivan's chest and it is like nothing he has ever felt before. It is almost as if he has forgotten how to breathe. "You... You do? How long have you known this?"

America gives his cheeks another pinch for good measure. "I dunno, a while I guess. I only just admitted it to myself after you left. I was going to tell you when you got back in the most epic and manly way that has ever existed in the history of forever and then the next thing I know you're saying you don't want... to be with me and..."

He quickly lowers his head, the pain welling up again faster than he can push it back. As unbidden tears well up at the corners of his eyes Russia realizes something. He gently tilts America's face up, lips brushing against his cheek. "You were not really crying about a cat with no legs, were you Alfred? You were crying because I hurt you."

America sniffles, annoyed with his body's betrayal. "Well...cats with no legs are pretty damn sad. But yes, it is your fault you jerk."

Russia puts his arms around America and holds him close, rocking him gently. "I am so sorry lapushka, I never meant to hurt you. I thought you would be happy when I told you that I did not want to be with you anymore. I was very shocked that you came back. Even after I caused you pain..."

For a moment America just lets Russia hold him. When he starts feeling self-conscious about it he tries to shift attention away from his embarrassing display. "Lapushka...Didn't you use that one before?"

"Have I?" Russia strokes his hair and smiles a bit. "It is possible. Do you like it?"

"Pft. It's okay I guess. Better than some of the other ones." Like lemon drop and honey- oh god he's going to puke just thinking about it.

"Alright then, I think I will try out lapushka for a while and see if I like it." How nice to finally have a designated nickname for him.

"...Weirdo." Russia is the biggest goddamn weirdo in a zillion mile radius. America feels warm as he leans against him, pressing his cheek to the worn material of the other's jacket.

For a while they just stand there, pressed up close together, and then everything begins to sink in. Russia gets a sort of giddy feeling that also makes him want to cry. He murmurs softly against America's hair, "So you really love me? Do you promise?"

America is silent a moment then laughs softly. "God knows why, but I do. I promise I do. But I swear that if it turns out you _are _just fucking with me I will break every one of your goddamn bones and throw you in the deepest part of the ocean."

Russia squeezes him tighter, not caring that he's crushing him a little bit. Alfred is in love with him. Nothing else in all of the world matters than that one fact. "I am not trying to trick you Alfred. I mean it completely. If you want... if you want you can confess to me properly now."

"Confess to you properly?" America snorts. "You think you deserve that after all you put me through? I was all set up to go into deep depression mode. Y'know, pretend everything is alright while I listen to shitty music about broken hearts and eat all of the ice cream in existence."

"You do not do those things already?" He can't help but smile at the glower America gives him for the comment. "I am teasing. But won't you please? I would like to hear you say it. Just once is enough."

Pft, like he deserves a proper confession. Then again playing the coy maiden is most certainly _not _his thing. Alfred reaches up and touches Ivan's cheek, caressing the slightly pinch-reddened skin. His voice trembles more than he'd like when he speaks some of the most frightening words he's ever uttered, "Ia tebya lubliu, Vanya."

Russia is dead silent for a moment then abruptly presses his lips to America's, kissing him deeply. America jumps and tries to pull away for a startled moment then melts into the kiss, returning Russia's zeal. They finally pull apart, gasping for breath.

A small giggle escapes Russia and he lightly licks America's lips. "I am afraid I lied Alfred, I am going to want you to say that much more than once. In fact I would like you to say that as often as possible. Especially when you say it like that darling. It makes me want you so badly."

America raises an eyebrow. "Oh, you wouldn't want me if I said it in English?"

"Oh, you may say it however you wish." Russia kisses him again, less forcefully this time.

As he moves in to kiss him again America suddenly turns his face. "...So, um... so we're like... a couple now or whatever?"

Russia does not let the deflection bother him, pressing his lips to America's cheek. "Da, I think so?"

"So now what? I mean... Okay, we're a couple. Okay... But I mean..." He clears his throat, voice becoming soft, "What if...What if it doesn't last?"

Russia cocks his head to one side and puts a little distance between them. "Does it have to? Does the experience not mean anything if it is not forever?"

"I...I guess not." America bites his bottom lip, uncertain.

"Are you frightened Alfred?"

America stiffens and all but glares at him. "Of course not! I'm definitely not afraid!"

Russia smiles gently at him. "I am. Very much so."

The words take America off guard then soften him. So he's not the only one after all... He wraps his arms around Russia's neck and kisses his nose. "Don't worry about it. The hero is here to be brave for both of us."

"That does make me feel much better." Russia nuzzles America affectionately. In some ways he is endearingly predictable.

Maybe Russia is right. Maybe sometimes it's enough to let go and just enjoy things as they last. It's not that different than his philosophy for other things in life, why not for this? America finally smiles and leans forward, kissing him. Despite his apprehensions this feels oddly right and so he goes with it, lightly nibbling on Russia's bottom lip.

Once again they lose themselves in the kiss, hands roaming idly. Russia is the first to break it. He presses his forehead to America's and speaks, voice husky, "I want to make love to you."

Biting back a moan, Alfred instead manages a small smirk. "Oh, so it's making love now? No more 'Ya khochu ebat' tebya'?"

Grabbing America's arms, Russia pushes him until his back is against the nearest wall. "Oh lapushka, Do you even know what you do to me when you speak in Russian? Especially saying something like that. Besides, just because I wish to make love to you now, do not think it is not my intent to do the latter as well."

America snorts, mostly with amusement. "We'll see how that goes."

"Da, we shall." They have plenty of time. Russia presses a light kiss to America's ear then leaves a trail of them along his neck and jaw. His hand slides down America's body and he presses his palm against the other's crotch, rubbing lightly.

A soft sigh escapes America. "I don't mind the making love bit but don't treat me like I'm some sampler platter."

"I only want to savor you and this moment, darling." It's quite monumental after all. He brings his mouth to America's and gently bites his lower lip. If Russia can he'll taste each inch of the blond.

This is just something America supposes he'll have to get used to. Dating someone who talks like a freaking cannibal or something. Instead of worrying over the details he reaches up to bury a hand in Russia's hair, pressing him almost forcefully into a kiss that is not gentle in the least. This is how real men kiss, damn it.

Amused more than anything, Russia responds in kind. He presses America more forcefully against the wall, removing his hand and pressing up against him with his own body. As he rocks against him teasingly he grabs the American's leg, bringing it up against his waist.

This is more like it. America wraps his other arm around Russia's neck and grinds up against him, moaning softly into the kiss. So long as they're a couple and everything it's a lot easier to admit—to himself at least—how much he actually kind of wants to have sex with Russia. He bets the other would be thrilled to hear it and be all smug so he certainly won't say anything. Stupid sexy Ivan.

For Russia there's a lot of pent up sexual desire that he's eager to finally release and yet now it seems more significant. He's glad they had never had proper sex before, it would have made this moment cheap in comparison to what it is now. This lovely little golden dream, all his for the taking at last.

Breathless, America breaks the kiss. "W-wait, I have to...to make a call really quick."

Russia gives him a sharp look. "Is that so?"

"Yes, to tell-hn, to tell them I'm not coming into the meeting. Unless you want to stop and wait...?"

Conceding silently, Russia begins to suck on America's neck as he fumbles for his cellphone. He turns it on, annoyed at Russia for continuing yet not wanting him to stop. So long as he doesn't moan over the phone or something it should be fine. He turns it on and quickly dials the number, biting back a sound as Russia lightly bites him.

"Stop that you- Hello! This is-" Russia pulls America's leg closer and rolls against him slowly but firmly. "Ffff- A-Alfred, you know which one, and I'm afraid I-" Russia slips a hand beneath America's shirt and strokes lightly at his skin. "W-won't be coming to the meeting today... Mmmm, why? Let's just say something more important has come up."

With that he drops the phone without a care in the world. As it hits the ground the battery pops out, saving them from the dreaded call back function. The two crush their lips together again, hands all over each other, bodies pressing together, hearts accelerating in sync.

As Russia begins to fumble with the button on America's pants the other mumbles, "Bedroom."

America really is lost in his traditional puritan roots at times even if he doesn't want to believe it. The thought makes Russia smile and he merely nods. The two stumble towards his room, still groping at one another. They nearly trip over the threshold in their eagerness to get to the bed. Once they reach it Russia pushes America back, letting his coat slip onto the floor before crawling up to straddle him.

A slight frown touches America's lips as Russia tries to start kissing him again. "H-hey wait, wait, what the hell makes you think I should be on the bottom?"

"Mm?" Russia kisses him anyway, a bit lost in the moment. "Is it not just logical?"

"L-logical!" America pushes his face away and leans up, glaring at Russia. "What do you mean, logical? You're the one with the monster dick that could break me in fucking half!" Russia's expression darkens and he reaches up to sharply pinch America's arm. "OW! What was that for?"

"I do not appreciate it when you say things like that. It will not break you in half and it is not monstrous. I know how to do this without it hurting. You think I have no experience with such things? That is a weak excuse just because you wish to be on top."

"What, I don't have a right to want to be on top? Okay, here's an excuse. I don't want to be on the bottom!" America glares at him defiantly.

Russia sits up a bit and matches his gaze. This is troublesome. If only America will accept that he should be the one on top, this could proceed much more smoothly. Besides, he's aching for the American and he doesn't feel like fighting about this forever. "Is there some way we can solve this within the next few minutes?"

America thinks about it, holding back the thought that if Russia just agrees to be on bottom this can be solved that moment. "I dunno, we could flip a coin?"

"A coin," Russia says a bit incredulously.

"Yep. You know, coin toss. Heads I win tails you lose?" Because god knows good ol' Democratic voting won't do much good here.

Russia considers and as juvenile as it feels at least it will decide the matter. "...Fine. Whoever wins may be on top this time and next time we may switch. Though perhaps we shall make it so I shall win if it is tails."

Damn, and he thought he was being so clever there. "Okay, yeah sounds good. Let me just get a quarter or something real quick." America shimmies out from beneath Russia and crawls over to his bedside drawer, digging through the top drawer for loose change. Thankfully he finds a quarter. "Okay, so I call heads, you call tails, right?"

Once Russia has nodded America flips it and allows it to fall in the middle of the bed so they can both see the result clearly. America curses loudly as he sees it's tails. "That's lame! Best two out of three?"

"One coin flip was decided upon. I am on top this time." Russia smiles at him cheerfully. Even the universe agrees with his standpoint.

America snatches up the quarter and throws it back in the drawer in irritation. This sucks. He'll be crippled for sure. Russia crawls further onto the bed and embraces America from behind, gently caressing the side of his neck with his lips. "I will be very gentle with you. I promise it will not hurt."

"Hmph, whatever. I expect you to do everything for me if I can't walk later. Ass."

"Of course, I will wait on you hand and foot if need be." Russia lets his hands slip beneath America's shirt to wander along his torso. He finds America's nipples and begins to tease them. America squirms a bit and finally begins to relax against him. Even though he got screwed by that coin toss he might as well enjoy what he can.

Russia is leisurely about it, rubbing them, lightly pinching them, passing the time by kissing and sucking his way up one side of America's neck and down the other. Once he can feel America breathing more heavily he finally lets one of his hands wander down his stomach and into his unfastened pants. America groans softly as Russia strokes him through his boxers.

"Come on Vanya, this teasing is too much," he whines.

"Da, I can tell you are already hard." Russia giggles against his ear. "Let us move on then. I am myself looking forward to it."

Russia grabs the bottom of America's shirt and pulls it up over his head. America raises his arms to help him, grabbing the askew Texas off his face and carefully folding them up, leaning forward to put them to the side safely. Russia leans down as he is stretched out, kissing a spot on his bare back.

America wriggles in his grip and turns himself around, moving to straddle Russia's lap this time. He leans down and kisses Ivan, biting his lower lip sharply. "Don't think you're going to get away with having all the fun in this just because of that stupid coin."

He tugs Russia's shirt off and unwinds his scarf, treating it with the same care he shows Texas. He pushes Russia back and attacks his neck, sucking roughly. It's time for a taste of his own medicine. He rocks his hips against him, moaning softly against the other man's skin.

Russia closes his eyes for a moment and traces his fingers down America's back. "You are cute Alfred."

America responds with a small bite that sends a shiver through Russia. Cute indeed. He kisses around Russia's neck once he has made a very noticeable hickey. This skin is always hidden away so figures it needs extra attention.

Russia lets the hand on America's back go lower, slipping into his jeans and beneath his boxers. He likes the sound America makes when he starts to grope his ass. He really is very cute even if he doesn't think so. He starts to work on pushing America's pants down lower then finally becomes impatient and grabs America, flipping their positions.

Leaning down to meet America's lips, they kiss with equal parts passion. No longer the one in charge, America still grinds against him teasingly, hot and raring to go. He's already forgotten that he's supposed to be upset about losing the coin toss. Sometimes a short term memory is a blessing.

Russia begins to kiss down America's body until he's reached his stomach. Somewhat flushed he finishes stripping America down, throwing his clothes away impatiently. America sticks his tongue out a bit and tugs at the button on Russia's pants. When he speaks his voice is lower than usual, lusty. "Better take these off too or I might have to rip 'em off of you."

While that mental image is rather arousing Russia determines it is probably best he not allow America to destroy his clothing. Maybe next time. America watches almost hungrily as Russia undresses, frowning a bit at the reminder of the size of his vital regions.

"Oh...Oh fuck, um...shit, now that I think about it I don't know if I have anything like lube or... I mean I haven't been with someone in a while and..." And there is no way in all of creation that America will allow Russia to put that _thing _in him without it.

But Russia does not look concerned in the least. He makes his way to the edge of the bed and leans over, grabbing his coat and pulling a tube from one of his pockets. "It is alright. I have some. I have been carrying it around me since I first proposed this relationship to you."

America gives him a hard look. "Pretty goddamn confident in yourself, aren't you?"

Russia shrugs and smiles smugly. "I am using it, da?"

America opens his mouth then gives him a sour look. "Shut up. You're a bad person."

Laughing softly, Russia unscrews the lid and starts putting some on his fingers, rubbing it to warm it a bit. He caresses America's cheek with his other hand, giving him a fond look before moving to press a finger in him. America winces then immediately tries to make himself relax. "Please do not be apprehensive. I am very good at this."

For the first time in their bizarre courtship America feels his first inkling of jealousy. "And just who did you get good with?"

Russia raises an eyebrow then gets an extremely pleased look on his face as he realizes the implication of the question. "It does not matter. As far as I am concerned anyone before this has been nothing but practice for this moment."

America flushes then squirms a bit, pretending it is only because of what Russia is doing. He supposes it's best not to get into past sex partners anyway. It just might make Russia go into psycho possessive mode.

Mood made even better by that little flash of jealousy, Russia focuses on the task of preparing America. He'll have to put extra care into it or it will give the other every opportunity to complain and call him a liar. To help with any discomfort he leans down and begins to trace the tip of his tongue over America's nipple. When that elicits a precious little gasp from America he smiles to himself and begins to suck on it lightly.

America begins to run his fingers restlessly through Russia's hair, focusing on his mouth as another finger is pressed in. He tries not to be apprehensive about what's going to happen, trying to just get what he can out of the physical sensation of what they are doing.

Once Russia has spent more than the average time he'd usually use for preparation he presses a small kiss on the side of America's lips. "Are you ready lapushka?"

America nods haltingly. "Yeah... But if you hurt me I'm-"

"I know, I know you have made it abundantly clear. I will be careful." Russia takes a moment to add some extra lubrication before pressing against America. Their eyes lock as Russia carefully begins to press in. America chews his bottom lip restlessly.

Russia stops when he is about halfway in. He'll work his way in from this point. Stroking America's hair, twirling that strange little piece of hair that sticks out all the time, Russia begins to thrust shallowly. Alfred's eyes start to slide closed. For now he actually feels comfortable with how much of Ivan is inside him. The pain he had feared isn't there so much as a pressure and that gives him a sense of relief as well.

Ivan gradually presses deeper into Alfred. The other lets out a small choked gasp when he is almost all the way in. His lips caress Alfred's jaw reassuringly and as he reaches the other's mouth he slips his tongue inside. He brushes their tongues together, entwining them. Alfred responds in kind, struggling to control the kiss playfully, trying to distract himself.

Ivan continues to rock his hips, the movements slow and deep. Alfred throws his head back, breaking the kiss and moving his hips in time with Ivan's, expression twisting with pleasure. "Oh god Ivan...More!"

Ivan runs a hand along his body and nuzzles his neck with his nose. "Mm for you anything my golden flower."

Alfred snorts at the nickname but doesn't complain when Ivan grabs the backs of his thighs, pushing them up and deepening his thrusts. The motion remains gentle and steady. Alfred presses back against him, back arching a little more each time. As he adjusts to the size he knows he can handle something less delicate. "Faster... I can take it, give it to me faster."

Ivan meets Alfred's gaze again, refusing to break the contact as he allows to his hips to move more quickly, more sharply against the other. He likes the way Alfred's eyes darken with lust and he lets their lips brush together, their breath mingling. Alfred is something precious. His sun, something warm and brilliant, and all he wants is to connect more intimately, become inseparable, become one...

A moan escapes Ivan and he brings Alfred closer. In turn Alfred wraps his legs around him tightly. He suddenly cries out as Ivan adjusts their position a bit and brushes his prostrate and desperately tries to get him to do it again. Inhibitions, feelings of self-consciousness, doubt, fear, all of it is wiped away as they move together, sharing this mutual pleasure. Nothing can compare, and nothing can get between them as they are lost in one another.

Alfred pants heavily and kisses Ivan briefly. This bizarre man who has broken each of his carefully built barriers to reach him. In a sense Ivan is destroying all that keeps him safe, but it is not an unpleasant destruction. "Vanya, I'm almost..."

It doesn't need to be said but Ivan still nods. He reaches between them and begins to stroke Alfred in time with the thrusts. Alfred hisses sharply and digs his nails into Ivan's back even as his name becomes like a prayer on his lips. The tension between them grows until Alfred finally cries out, clinging to him as he rides out his climax. Ivan holds him close, thrusting a few more times then finally finishing with a low grunt.

They slowly sink against the bed, still holding each other tightly as they bask in the afterglow. For a while neither says anything, both content as they are. Russia finally murmurs, "I told you I would not hurt you."

America nuzzles his chest. "Yeah well...I haven't tried walking yet have I? I better be able to."

Russia grins and strokes the other's sweat-dampened hair. "You will. If not I will carry you. ...Did you enjoy it?"

"Mm? Well...Yeah okay I did." Maybe it was just the not having sex in ages thing or the whole being in love thing but that had been really, really good. "You?"

"Oh of course I did! Also, I love the face you make when you come Alfred. It is simply wonderful."

"You are such a goddamn pervert!" As Russia giggles America wraps an arm around him, not particularly bothered by the fact at the moment. There's another lull in the conversation. "Hey... Y'know... the country part of me or whatever... The United States, it's super pissed about this."

"Oh? That is alright. The Russian Federation has despised this idea since I first began."

America smiles a bit but it fades. "It probably won't be easy you know. If we are going to have a relationship I mean. There are a lot of people who still aren't okay with the idea of it, our alter-egos aside."

"Nyet, never easy. But neither of us are people who like 'easy' are we? And I hardly care about the opinions of others. We can work through it. Are you having doubts? I cannot let you go now, I do hope you realize. If you think you can slip away I shall pursue you twice as hard."

Well thank god he doesn't have any. Russia would probably lock him up or something. "No, it's not that. I guess it's just sort of... Hm. One day at a time I guess."

Russia nuzzles him gently. "Da, one day at a time. ...Can I hear it one more time?"

"What? Oh." America looks at Russia for a moment then can't help but smile. There's something oddly cute about him, there really is. "I guess so, you giant sap. I love you."

Russia beams silently, overwhelmed with a sense of affection and warmth. "I love you, too."

* * *

**Translations**:

Ia tebya lubliu – I love you

Ya khochu ebat' tebya – I want to fuck you

**AN: **So this was the story's climax. There will be three more chapters after this. I suppose it could end here but I want to sort of tie everything up and you'll get to see how certain things play out. Fun, yes? Also 'lapushka' won for Russia's official nickname for Alfred because quite frankly it was most popular with you guys -laughs- Someone sent me a rec. for one that I still like and hope to use for some future project. 


	48. Chapter 48

Hey~ Sorry for the delay on this. I hope you have been well. This chapter is pretty much bonus sex for all my wonderfully patient fans -laughs-

As extra blah blah blah, humon linked a chart of a map in one of her comics recently. It gives the average penis size of most countries. There was much lol'ing to be had.

* * *

America stands before the other nations, smile set to stun. Beside him is a hand drawn picture of a giant robot colored brightly with markers. "Hello my fellow nations! Today I would like to share with you my plan to stop crime. The answer is to pool our resources to create a giant crime fighting robot! Obviously it would be completed in _my _country but your money and supplies will most definitely play a critical part! What say you, fellow nations? Are you dedicated to saving the planet from injustice?"

Japan is the first to speak up. "I agree with American-san. We need more robots. I would be happy to contribute to this project."

England tsks at America. "Oh shut up you insufferable git! Stop daydreaming and come up with real solutions! This plan is painfully ridiculous."

"Crime fighting robots were invented in Korea!" South Korea chips in most unhelpfully.

Spain scratches his nose. "It sounds complicated. And expensive. So very expensive..."

"If you mostly buy supplies from me and give the robot a Chinese language option then I might consider," China says.

Italy waves his arm. "Can it make pasta?"

France sighs dramatically. "But does it not lack a heart? A soul? The human quality of empathy and love is necessary to solve the horrors of crime. Non, it shall never work in the cold unfeeling clutches of a machine!"

Australia laughs, "Sounds fun to me, mate!"

Switzerland glowers at him. "My country will have no part in this. And if you do make one, we will make a giant robot of our own which will remain perfectly neutral."

Germany smacks the table with his hand. "The very fact that we are talking about this at all is completely insane!"

Russia giggles suddenly. "If I may..." There is a slight lull as the others listen a little more carefully. "I think... it is an amazingly stupid plan."

There is a sudden rush of voices that builds to a crescendo. Once again Germany is forced to hush everyone, assisted by Switzerland who neutrally fires a shot into the air. "Be quiet, everyone! To avoid wasting time I will state right now that this plan lacks all logic and after a lunch break we will reconvene without further discussion of it. Thank you, America, you may step down now."

There is the sound if chairs scraping and too many voices speaking all at once. It finally fades into a murmur as nations leave to go eat or fall into more intimate conversations. America pouts. He personally thinks his plan is super brilliant. As he walks towards the door Japan lightly touches his arm. "I was quite fond of the plan, Alfred-san."

America's frown turns to a smile. "Thanks, Kiku. I spent forever coloring that picture. I'll see ya after the break, I guess."

Japan almost says something then nods. America shoves his hands in his pants pockets and walks for a while until he is far from the chatter of the other nations.

"Alfred."

The voice makes him pause and he turns, scoffing. "Well if it isn't the prince of betrayal."

Russia smiles at him softly. "Oh? Have I betrayed you?"

"You sure have, asshole." America glowers at him. "Calling my plan stupid like that when it's so completely brilliant!"

"But it _is_ amazingly stupid." Russia giggles as America's glower becomes more fierce. He pokes him lightly on the forehead. "I am surprised you can function at all with the amount of nonsense that is made up here."

America brushes his hand aside. "You're just jealous because you could never come up with something so cool!"

Undaunted, Russia pinches his cheek playfully. "Mm, there is no jealousy for your ideas. I do not covet them."

"Hands off! If that's all you have to say, you can stop harassing me now!" America starts to turn then suddenly finds himself turned back around and pinned to the wall.

"Actually, there was one more thing." Russia moves in uncomfortably close, smiling cheerfully. "You are going to fall in love with me."

There is a beat of silence and then America's scowl melts into an amused smile. "Is that so? Is that some kinda joke?"

Russia leans in more, their lips almost brushing. "You know I do not joke like that, unless it is to tease you."

America raises an eyebrow, grin widening. "Isn't that what you're doing now?"

"Da." Russia giggles and kisses him softly. "What do you say, Alfred. Will you be my lover? I will give you a hint, it is not a yes or no question."

America reaches up and strokes his cheek, snorting. "Hm... That _is _a tough one. Yeah, I guess I'll take you on for size."

Russia nuzzles their foreheads together. "You have gotten much smarter, Alfred."

"And you have hardly changed at all, you fiend." They both privately accept the words as untrue. America gives him a small peck on the lips. "You really are a jerk, though. Would it kill you to agree on anything I say?"

"Come up with better plans and I would be delighted to. Besides, it makes people happier when politically we are not in sync." Russia understands perfectly and it does not bother him very much. America still seems touchy about it, but that's just his overinflated ego.

"Hmph. Like I care." Though he likes to avoid the issue that he doesn't exactly support Russia fully on a political level, either.

"I am not saying you should, merely that it is true. Now, on to happier subjects. Would you be interested in dinner with Germany and Italy next weekend?" Russia puts more space between them.

America clicks his tongue as he looks thoughtfully at Russia. "As in going out in public so you little women can embarrass Germany and myself or as in at one of their houses?"

Russia lets the 'little women' comment slide. Germany is most definitely the more domestic one in his partnership with Italy and no matter what America tells himself, they both know who ends up on top more often than not in their own relationship. If thinking of himself as the man makes him happy then who is Russia to deny him? "Italy's house. He will be cooking and I do believe Germany is making a cake. So considerate of him, lest his 'little lady' find the task too much to bear."

"Pft. Well in that case I'm all for it! Italy's food is so good! And I would marry one of Germany's cakes. Just saying."

Russia leans in close again, smile somewhat less amused. "So long as it is only the cake you are interested in."

Ah yes, this. Still an issue, though Alfred has forced Ivan into toning it down over time. "Food is my one true love and you know it. I guess you come as a close second."

Though that reminds America, he needs to talk to Germany about the email his brother had sent him with all the lewd suggestions. He really needs to cut it out. Mostly it is amusing if not exasperating but Russia has been prone to hacking into his email from time to time (consequently leading him to go work with Estonia on making stronger defenses for his computer). Even when he deletes stuff like that he doesn't feel like it's always enough.

His musings are broken as Russia kisses him, more deeply than before. "So long as no other person takes a place higher than myself I can accept this I suppose. My love for sunflowers is quite great as well."

"Oh come on. You can't love a plant more than me! Food is like, essential. It only makes sense to love it."

"But plants are a manifestation of life in general. Does that not make them precious as well?" Russia smiles at him in that sickeningly sweet fashion of his.

All America can do is open his mouth as he tries to think of a response. Finally he says, "Yeah well flowers aren't as cool as stuff you can eat."

"Eloquent and poignant as always, lapushka. Though all this talk of eating has made me hungry. I have quite the appetite for you." He lifts America's chin, kissing him. "Do you think we have time?"

"Are you seriously-" America stops short then smiles. "I think so. Shall we find somewhere cozy?"

"Da," Russia purrs. He gives America some space then wraps an arm around his waist. America returns the gesture in kind and they begin to wander around. Their utter lack of shame does not particularly bother either of them.

They finally duck into an empty office room, Russia locking the door behind them. As he turns America grabs him and leans up to kiss him full on the mouth. Russia quickly kisses back, wrapping his arms around him. Their kisses are heated and rushed. Not a lot of time, something quick and fulfilling is good enough for now.

Slowly, Russia begins to back America towards the desk. Whoever it belongs to will undoubtedly not appreciate what they are about to do on it. He couldn't care less. Before he can get him pressed up against the desk, America stops their progress cold. As Russia gives him a questioning look America pulls away from him and turns towards the desk. He looks at it thoughtfully then shoves everything off of it with blatant disregard to whoever it belongs to. Brushing his hands together he turns back to Russia, grinning.

"By the way you do realize," he slides his hands up Russia's chest then grabs his shoulders and swings him around and shoving him back so that the taller man is on the desk, "it's my turn to top, right?"

Russia pushes himself up on his elbows, a stunned look on his face. Actually, he forgot. The shock turns to a slight grimace. "You are always so aggressive."

America quickly bridges the distances before Russia can stand up, pinning him in place with his hips. "I'm the aggressive one?"

"You did break my arm on that one occasion," Russia says, matter-of-fact.

"Oh come on! It was an accident! A total, honest accident! You break a guy's arm once and suddenly you can never live it down!" America is coming very close to whining. Not that heroes ever whine.

"Who 'accidentally' breaks someone's arm in the middle of sex? You will never live it down simply because in a very painful way it was quite impressive. If only the others knew how abusive you truly are," Russia says with mock solemnity.

"Be quiet, Mr. stalker. You're the one who gets all crazy. Now, hand over the lube." America holds out his hand expectantly.

Russia looks up at him, eyebrows raised, then finally relents and reaches into his pocket to pull it out. If he doesn't apply to their rules when America pushes them then he doesn't get any leniency later when America is horny enough not to care that it should be his turn. "Very well. Please treat me gently, darling."

America snorts at the twist of sarcasm in the words as he takes the small tube and sticks it in his back pocket. His expression softens as he leans in, capturing Russia's lips again. America's hands wander down his body as Russia cups his face. Despite the constraint on time they are almost mockingly tender with one another. Lips caressing, skin teasingly touching, the material of their clothes softly hissing as it rubs together.

Somewhat clumsily, America unbuttons Russia's shirt as their tongues begin to lightly touch, sending a small shiver down both their spines. Once the final button is freed the material is pushed aside impatiently and hands tease their way over pale skin. By now it is a well-known map that Alfred loves to explore again and again, his fingers ghosting feather-light over an old scar fitted along one of Russia's ribs.

Only lingering for a moment his fingers continue on their way until they brush over Russia's nipples. He traces slow circles around them, acting as if there is all the time in the world. Is this the kind of treatment some kind of arm-breaking maniac would bestow upon the most amazing boyfriend ever? (Because anyone that dates Alfred F. Jones is automatically the most amazing boyfriend/girlfriend ever by default). Most definitely not!

Coaxing Russia to open his mouth wider, America slips his tongue in to play with the other's. Almost simultaneously he flicks his nails over the sensitive nubs, loving the small sound of appreciation that Russia makes. He continues to flick over them, sometimes rubbing the calloused pads of his fingers over them instead. Meanwhile their tongues chase after one another, losing and gaining ground constantly.

When Russia squirms impatiently against him, America finally breaks the kiss, panting quietly. He kisses along Ivan's jaw, giving his chin a small nip. This amuses Russia and reminds him tremendously of a cat. Alfred has always seemed more like a dog type personality to him but the comparison is still oddly cute. What is almost a giggle suddenly turns to a soft moan as America begins to grind against him. Quick, quick, slow, then repeat; who said those dance lessons England forced on him ages ago never paid off?

"Mm, Alfred... Not that I do not love this tremendously, but I did think we had a deadline? Unless you wish to skip out of the rest of the meeting."

"Oh man, please don't tempt me," America whispers into Ivan's skin. Still, the warning is duly noted. America gently presses on Russia's chest to make sure he's lying flat on his back before lowering himself to kiss along his stomach. Every now and then he sucks lightly.

As he goes lower he drags Russia's pants and boxer briefs down, Russia adjusting his hips to help him. There is a snag, the obstacle of shoes, but finally the deed is done. Once they are out of the way his tongue traces lazily against the outline of a hipbone. By now Russia is leaning up again, watching his progress. America moves lower still and presses his lips lightly to Russia's cock, eyes flickering up to watch the other's reaction. The way Ivan licks his lower lip and his eyes seem to spark turns America on. For a moment longer he watches then lets his gaze fall away as he trails kisses up the considerable length, eventually lavishing it with his tongue. It still definitely irks him but he is getting used to the size difference. He just tells himself his is more maneuverable.

"Are you going to tease me forever?" Russia asks lightly, almost covering the thick lust underlying the words.

America leans up, a hand moving to replace his mouth and stroking him. A small smirk plays on his lips. "I could if I felt like it. But no time, right? Guess I'll get to it."

He continues the stroking motion as he reaches back to grab the lube with his free hand. The stretch to get it from the opposite pocket is a little awkward. After one more slow pump he releases Russia and fiddles with the cap of the tube. It slips from his fingers and bounces against the edge of the desk, noisily skittering across the floor. America smiles sheepishly but ignores it. There's time to collect it later.

With more impatience now, America puts a little too much of the slippery substance on his fingers. He rubs it quickly, barely long enough to bring any warmth, then slips the first finger in with only a murmured warning. Russia brooks the preparation process with not so much as a grunt. It's just a fact that America isn't nearly as good at it, though he has improved somewhat, and that makes the process tedious at times.

"Ready?" The question is so impatient that Russia can't help but chuckle as he nods. America returns the nod almost solemnly then grins widely in a way that is so charming it is almost aggravating; Russia adores it in a lovingly frustrated sort of way.

As America sets himself up to enter, he suddenly dips in and leaves a surprisingly tender kiss on Russia's lips that takes him aback. A surge of warmth goes through his stomach and is followed by a strange shiver up his spine as America begins to press in.

There is a suspension of breath on both parts as America presses in fully, pauses, then slowly starts to thrust. There is mild discomfort but it gradually fades as the pace smooths out. There is a murmur of voices outside the door but they quickly pass and go largely unnoticed by the two. As America rocks his hips he shivers with anticipation. Soon they will be closer, bound in their mutual lust, helping one another fulfill it.

America presses in and out, in and out; Russia cups his cheek again, hand almost too warm against his skin; their eyes are locked completely on one another, a mix of blue to violet and back again. Russia parts his lips slowly, chin tilting up ever so slightly as America's angle changes, bringing with it a fresh burst of pleasure. America hovers close as if to kiss him but doesn't, his glasses slipping further down the bridge of his nose. Russia finds the sight of America fucking him while wearing his glasses perfectly charming for some reason.

The thought melts and fades as the pleasure continues to burn and grow stronger. Russia lifts his legs and hooks them together behind America, using them to press him closer with each thrust. A soft hum escapes him and his hand slides up into dark gold strands. America groans and moves down to his neck, tongue leaving a wet trail over the sensitive skin and teeth gently grazing over his adam's apple.

"Alfred... Harder."

America takes a deep breath, reassured by the rich scent of Russia's skin. He plants his arms more firmly on either side of Russia, palms pressing into the polished wood. Tongue peeking out at the corner of his mouth, America concentrates on strengthening his thrusts while keeping them at a similar angle.

"Mm, da, like that," Russia grasps one of America's arms a little too hard. He finally realizes and relaxes his grip only after bruises have already started to form.

America hardly even notices, lost in his own private bliss. "Vanya... Moĭ Vanya."

The hand buried in America's hair tugs lightly before moving down to America's shoulder so Russia can steady himself. It's frustrating to be on the bottom, not being able to control the pace. Pinned on this hard surface he can barely even move his hips to help along, and so he continues to pull America closer with his legs in frustration.

Abruptly, whether sensing Russia's desires or doing it for himself, America lifts his hands from the desk and grabs Russia's legs, hoisting them up higher around his waist as he drags him further off the edge of the desk. With a sort of earnestness America pulls Russia's pelvis almost harshly towards him as he thrusts forward. Russia moans loudly, nails digging into the other man's shoulder.

America eats up the heavy panting and half-muffled sounds Russia makes. Even if Russia doesn't ever admit it he _totally _loves what America does to him. America knows this is as fact because he's awesome. And he must admit Russia looks almost beautiful, eyes closed serenely as wispy strands of hair stick to his temples from the thin gloss of sweat.

The office absorbs the sounds of their love making and it becomes almost balmy. America licks his lips and tastes salt. All too soon he gets a familiar feeling among the general pleasure and heat. "Uh...Ivan? I'm sort of getting pretty close. And don't you dare make that joke about sex being the only race I will ever win against you!"

Russia opens his eyes, a smug smile flitting across his lips for a second. "I would never, lapushka. Thank you for warning me."

America nods, trying to ignore the flash of crimson he can feel rising on his cheeks. He slows the pace somewhat and works on controlling himself. Russia reaches between them and begins to stroke himself, sighing softly as his eyes slide shut again.

They move together, Russia matching his strokes to the pace of America's hips. America bites his lower lip harshly as he feels that sensation of pleasure coiling tighter, too close to bringing him to its release. As hard as he tries to hold it back he abruptly finishes, all but pounding Russia into the desk for a few moments before his back arches one final time.

Body weighted with pleasure, America props himself up with an elbow and reaches down, nudging away Russia's hand and stroking him firmly. Grabbing America's tie, Russia pulls him close enough that he can press his mouth high on the blond's neck, sucking harshly. America tightens his grip, speeding up his movements. Russia moans and gives a fierce nip as he finally reaches his own climax. He embraces America, lips moving to brush over the other's.

The two stay like that for a while, letting their hearts slow. America pulls away gently, quickly tucking himself back in and zipping his pants. He looks around briefly and spots a box of tissues on the floor. Russia waits a bit impatiently as the other cleans him up. As he stands and re-dresses America has the courtesy to wipe off a few spots on the desk.

Russia and America look at each other critically, brushing back strands of hair and straightening ties for one another before nodding. They head towards the door and Russia pauses. "Should we clean up?"

"Nah, whoever this office belongs to must be a politician so they're probably an asshole anyway." America peeks out the door then grabs Russia's arm. They run from the room like a regular pair of hooligans, laughing with amusement until they are far away.

Russia pulls America to him, embracing him tightly as the laughter winds down. America nuzzles his chest and sighs softly. "Sorry about... Yeah. Care to try again tonight?"

"That sounds good to me." He kisses the top of America's head. "But you will have to bring more lube. I do believe you left mine back there."

America pulls away and looks up at Russia. "Did I?"

"Da, you did."

"Oh." America stares at him for a moment then bursts out laughing so hard he can't breathe. "O-oh God, that's s-so funny! That poor b-bastard!"

He takes Russia's arm once he's calmed himself and starts to walk with him. It's getting close to the end of their break. "Alright. I'll pick some up then meet you at your room."

"That would be most agreeable. One other thing, Alfred." Russia abruptly stops.

"Huh? What?" America gives him a questioning look.

Russia gives him a look of delight. "Carry me the rest of the way."

"...Are you kidding me?"

"Nyet. You are the one who savagely abused my body. You will not carry me?"

For someone who is supposedly so 'abused' he sounds cheerful enough. America rolls his eyes. "Fine."

America turns around and crouches down slightly. With glee more befitting a child, Russia walks over, putting his legs on either side of Alfred's body and loosely wrapping his arms around his shoulders. "Ready!"

"Okay. One, two–" America grabs Russia's legs and stands abruptly, tottering as he balances himself under Russia's weight. "You're kind of heavy, you know that?"

Russia tightens his grip, beaming cheerfully. "I would not be saying that my dearest Alfred. Besides, you can handle it."

"Pft." America adjusts Russia again and starts walking towards the meeting with Russia riding piggyback. "You freaking weirdo."

"And you love me for it," Russia says teasingly.

"I guess so." His tone is exasperated but there is no hiding the fond smile that is forming. Russia is so cute it's stupid.

They have been in the meeting for over an hour before a certain politician returns to his office and finds the mess they left behind. Needless to say, it ruins his entire day.

* * *

**AN: **It was really hard getting myself to write America topping Russia -laughs- Oh and 'quick, quick, slow' is the tempo of a basic waltz. The next chapter will have other character's reactions to their relationship as well as tying up some loose strings. See you then!


	49. Chapter 49

Gaaah sorry for the lack of anything lately! I've been under a lot of stress and that makes me apathetic so I've been very unproductive lately. Parts of this chapter were like pulling teeth but it's done! An amusing snippet to apologize: I have a professor from Denmark who is just absolutely fantastic and hilarious. We were talking about Europe in class and we started talking about Prussia specifically. He described it as a nasty parody of Germany. Made my day, I swear.

So they recently updated the reviews system or something and suddenly it's telling me that all the links from past reviews are outdated when I try to respond. I have a ton of reviews I haven't responded to yet. You're fucking kidding me, right? Do you think they'll fix that problem or am I just screwed and have to do things the tedious way?

* * *

A voice warbles drunkenly throughout the bar, singing one of the most butchered versions of Bohemian Rhapsody the world has ever known. America laughs loudly, clapping in encouragement. Japan eats his sushi and tries to pretend he is deaf. It's easy, actually. He's had lots of practice going to karaoke with America in the past.

The song is soon blessedly over and America cheers loudly even as another singer gets set to go up. England glares over from another table before France pokes his cheek and the shorter man turns to snap at him. Neither seem to remember that Canada is at their table, blending in with the decor.

America finally turns back to the sushi bar, taking a long drink from his coke. "I love bad karaoke! It always makes me feel better about myself."

Japan adds a dab of wasabi to his soy sauce and shakes his head. "That is not a particularly kind way to regard it."

"Oh, easy for you to say. You don't suck." America eyes the sushi then pulls out his phone to check the time. Because who uses watches anymore? "Jeez, where is Ivan? I want to eaaaaat."

A small frown touches Japan's lips as he chews a piece of sushi. "Then order something. It is rather rude of him to make you wait for so long."

"Nah, it'll be fine. I just feel like I'm starving! I haven't eaten since lunch, y'know? And Ivan is all," he puts on a sudden Russian accent that makes Japan's skin crawl, "'I will be meeting with you soon, my little babushka burger' or some shit like that and then he takes forever! Women take less time than he does! I would have ordered something earlier if I knew it would take so long! But no, I just know if I get something at this point he'll come waltzing in the door and give me a hard time for ordering when we're supposed to be going out to eat. It's his fault, damn it!"

Japan softly clicks his tongue. "I still do not think he sounds very thoughtful or considerate of you. If... if you are hungry you may have a piece of my sushi."

"Really?" It's not his favorite, but a man gets to the point where even his own arm starts to look sort of tasty and America is getting close to that critical stage. "Yeah! I'd love a piece!"

Japan picks up his pair of chopsticks and grabs a piece, dabbing it in the soy sauce and wasabi before stretching it out for Alfred. "Here."

America grins and leans forward eagerly, mouth poised to take in the sushi. It's an oddly flustering sight. Quite suddenly a hand is harshly clamped down on Japan's shoulder and he jumps, the chopsticks and sushi falling to the ground before they've reached their destination. A falsely cheerful voice greets him."Hello, Japan!"

As America looks at the fallen sushi, utterly crestfallen, Japan turns to glance up at Russia, who has a slight edge to his smile. "...Hello, Russia-san."

Without removing his hand, Russia turns his attention to America. "Sorry it took so long, lapushka. I will buy you an extra dessert to make up for it. Are you ready to go?"

"About freaking time! You can bet your ass I'm ready! Let me just go use the bathroom real quick and we'll blow this joint." He sucks down the rest of his soda then stands, pausing briefly. "...You two will be nice to one another?"

They both nod, murmuring reassurances. With a shrug America heads off towards the bathroom. Once he is out of sight Japan's eyes slide to his shoulder. "Unhand me."

"My apologies. You must forgive me if I do not appreciate other people feeding my lover." The hand slides away, the tone of voice annoyed yet terribly smug. "You know, it is funny. Sometimes I think about what you said to me back when I was still courting Alfred. How he is not the kind to be in a relationship. And yet here we are, so very happy with one another. I suppose you were completely wrong. Or perhaps it was only bitterness speaking?"

Japan grits his teeth and suddenly his arm is swinging towards Russia, who catches him by the wrist. His eyes narrow slightly, the smile never leaving his face as he squeezes it. Japan winces but keeps a firm hold of the kunai in his hand.

Russia giggles softly but doesn't let up. "Oh dear, attacking me with any sort of blade is futile, Japan. I have had plenty of experience deflecting them courtesy of my little sister. You will never be up to her skill."

Japan glares up at him, not saying a word. After a moment Russia gives his wrist one more harsh twist then releases it. Japan quickly pulls it close to his body, rubbing it. "Someone as violent as you should not be with Alfred-san."

Ah, Russia does hate the more familiar way Japan addresses America these days. "Oh, Japan, you of all people should know how aggressive Alfred can get. Besides, he seems to like it when I am a bit rough with him."

A rare bubble of anger starts to build up inside Japan. "You are truly disgusting."

Russia giggles again. "Oh? Alfred does not seem to mind. In fact he loves it when I talk dirty to him."

Before Japan can react America comes jogging over. "Okay! Ready to go. You two aren't fighting are you?"

"Never," Russia says with a smile.

"Of course not," Japan confirms.

America beams at them. "Great! Now to the magical kingdom of food!"

Russia steps away from Japan and encircles America's waist with one arm, pulling him close as he gives him a kiss. "As you desire, my dearest one."

Japan averts his gaze and discreetly tucks away the kunai after contemplating chucking it at Russia's head. "Goodbye, Alfred-san."

America pushes Russia away for a moment and Japan takes a small satisfaction in that. "See you later, Kiku! I'll catch up with you later. Don't forget I want to play that new game we were talking about!"

Japan nods once and smiles. America smiles back and then he is leaning against Russia and flashing that sort of private smile reserved for intimate partners at him. Russia gives him a small squeeze on the behind out of spite that makes America laugh and smack him good-naturedly. A moment later they are gone and Japan is ordering sake to chase down the ugly taste Russia leaves in his mouth.

After the first glass he finds a presence at his side taking a seat. Japan looks over and England gives him a small upturn of one corner of his mouth before turning to the bartender and ordering another beer. He's already starting to get sloshed but he can take a few more rounds. "Don't mind if I join you, do you?"

Japan shakes his head. "Not at all."

England nods and reaches out to take his beer. For a moment the two of them are silent, focusing on their drinks. It is England who speaks first. "Still having a hard time with those two dating?"

Japan's eyes narrow slightly. "...It is none of my business."

"Oh come on, that's a bollocks answer and you know it. Aren't we closer than that?"

Japan sighs softly. "Are you?"

"Bloody right I am, and I want someone to rant about it with. France doesn't care much and I can never seem to find Canada. It's not like I'm going to talk about it with any of my brothers either." He takes a comically defiant drink of beer.

Japan runs a finger along the edge of his glass. "It is not easy, no. It is hard to see him with... Well, Russia purposely does these things to be even more..." The words are difficult to find, the emotions so direct it is hard to get them out. "He could do better than him."

"Alfred is a wanking git, but probably. And yes, that damned Russia is so smug about it isn't he? Getting his hands all over him just to rub it in. Pisses me right the fuck off." Russia has proven them both wrong in their claims of Alfred's imperviousness to love and he reminds them of this whenever he can. England makes a face then takes another long drink and gestures for a new beer.

Taking another drink of his own sake, Japan nods slowly. "He is not the only difficult thing about their relationship. Alfred... It is like having a... a tree outside of your window that you are quite accustomed to seeing only to find one day that it has been cut down."

England raises a considerable eyebrow, "Always thought it would be there to climb should the desire arise?"

Japan's neck and the tips of his ears go red. "That- My intention was not- I-"

England laughs and there is a slight slur in his words now. "I'm only giving you a hard time. Alfred is young and foolish. I have to remind myself whenever I am forced to be civil towards his _beau_. Fuck me, using a French word. Anyway... For me the hardest part is that I promised Alfred I'd support whatever decision he made... Stupid that it may be. For whatever reason that bastard makes him happy. Alfred always has looked his best when he's glowing the way he does these days."

There is a deep silence as two ancient nations contemplate something as elusive and infinitely baffling as the emotion of love. Love, and how it does not always bring happiness. And how sometimes it does. Japan almost speaks, tastes his words by rolling them on his tongue like pearls, then decides to swallow them after all. Silence has always served him best.

"It won't last forever," England states suddenly, a little too loudly. "It never does. Until then I can put up with it so long as Alfred is smiling. Someday that giant will mess it all up and after that happens..."

"I suppose I will help Alfred pick up the pieces," Japan says firmly.

It clashes with Arthur's words, which he says almost simultaneously, "I suppose it will be up to me to comfort the stupid boy."

The two of them freeze and look at one another for a moment then both look away and take a drink.

"The weather has been rather strange this time of year, don't you think?" England finally murmurs.

"Hai... very strange weather."

They both take another drink.

~.

England's absence from the table reminds France of his dearest Canada, and the latter is not so sure that's a good thing. As he smacks away a wandering hand, Canada laments. "Russia's 'family gatherings' are really the worst. I don't know why you would be upset about not being invited to them."

"But mon cher, even England is invited! Am I not part of the family?" He caresses a knee before his hand is pushed away again.

"It's really not that great, I swear. Last time we had one Belarus almost stabbed me through the throat because she thought I was Alfred. It was awful! And I can't tell you how many times Russia sits on me." Or generally pretends he doesn't exist. Even though he is the one who holds the things to begin with.

"I still feel left out! How very lonely this rose is on its lonely rocky mountain by the sea..." France touches the back of his hand lightly to his forehead, looking perfectly tragic.

"You are not missing out," Canada says with a sigh.

"Try to get me invited to the next one! I can make it worth your while~" France tries to snake his arm around Canada.

"Oh no, is that a sunflower?" Canada hurriedly asks.

France stiffens and looks around in a panic. "I did not mean it! I said I was sorry!"

Canada scoots his chair further away and leans his chin on one hand. He really wants to know what Russia did that France still reacts that way to sunflowers but the other won't talk about it. It always seems to traumatize him. "I guess I'll see what I can do... it's usually just a lot of bother. Ukraine is always sweet but Belarus gets unbelievably moody and Arthur gives off this air of disapproval that always makes things even more tense. Unless you think you can lift the mood you might not want to go."

The words seem to brighten France up immediately. "But of course I can! I shall be a balmy breeze on a lovely spring day!" He laughs confidently and then his smile softens. Reaching over to tuck a strand of hair behind Canada's ear, he asks, "If they truly bother you Matthieu, why do you bother going? Could you not refuse?"

"W-well yes but... Al's my brother and I want to show my support. Even if he's not the best at reciprocating that... I know it means a lot to him. I amhappy for him."

France looks at him with tears in his eyes and hugs him close. "Oh you really are related to me! Such noble intent and loyalty! My darling petit feuille d'érable! Let me kiss you!"

Canada pushes at him, straining to keep him at bay. "F-Francis, quit it!"

"Just a little one! Honhonhon~" France's attempts are cut short as they hear loud weeping from the bar. He glances up and smirks. "Seems Angleterre has reached his limit."

Canada sighs in relief as France retreats. "Sh-should we get him back to the hotel then?"

"I suppose so. He is so bothersome, cutting into everyone's good time with his poor alcohol tolerance. It is abominable." France shakes his head.

The two get up and head over to him. The sushi chef is talking to England, shaking his head, then looks at them. France waves his hand in assurance that they'll handle him and he goes back to his work. "Aah, my dearest Arthur, look at the mess you have made of yourself!"

England glares up at him, gaze wavering. "Y-you... don't even talk to me ya... ya French...I hate you!"

France laughs as England sinks down to the bar, falling into another fit of tears. "You know, only one of us needs to take him back. I will make this noble sacrifice and you may stay here and enjoy yourself, Matthieu."

Canada in no way trusts the perverted leer he is giving England. "N-no, that's fine. I'll do it. I think it would be...safer."

He moves past a put out France and puts an arm around England's shoulders, trying to get him to stand. England looks up at him then throws his arms around his neck. "Why d'ya have to make such bad life deshishons, Alfred? I raised you the best I couldn't didn't I?"

An annoyed expression crosses Canada's face. "I'm not Alfred! It's me, Matth-"

"Ya know, Alfred, you should... make fiscally responsible investments in life and in love!" England gives him a determined look then begins sobbing again.

"Sure you do not want me to take him?" France asks eagerly.

"I've got him," Canada says with a sigh. It's not like it's the first time in his life he's been mistaken for America. "See you later, Francis."

Canada pulls England to his feet, who has started muttering some patriotic song under his breath. The two of them wobble out to the street to catch a cab.

France turns back to his table and sighs. Well there goes all of his fun. Bored, he scans the room to see if there are any attractive people he might take home. For the first time he notices that the latest karaoke singer is Japan, missing his coat with his tie up around his forehead and incredibly drunk.

He sings fiercely into the mike a song that does not quite seem to match his gentle voice; "Linda Linda! Linda Linda Lindaaaa! Linda Linda! Linda Linda Lindaaa! Moshi-mo Boku-ga itsuka Kimi-to deai hanshi aunara, Sonna tokiwa do-ka Ai no Imi-wo Shit-te kuda-sai! Aija na-kutemo Koja na-kutemo. Kimi-wo hanashi-wa-shi-na-i, Keshite makenai Tsuyoi chikara-wo Boku-wa hito-su-dake motsu!"

France's eyes light up and as the song comes to a close he claps enthusiastically. As Japan wanders back towards the sushi bar he looks at it in confusion. It seems to be lacking one English gentleman. A hand lightly falls onto his shoulder and he looks up, hiccuping. "Aah, greetings France-san. I hope you are well. Have you seen England-san? He seems to have wandered away with a breeze."

"I am very well. Arthur has gone back to the hotel. How about I escort you back there as well my delicate lotus blossom?"

"Im-" Japan hiccups. "Improper..."

"I am just taking you back to the hotel. You should relax, Japan. You are in most excellent hands!" France starts to pull Japan towards the door.

"Hold it! Let him go!"

France freezes and turns slowly, laughing a bit awkwardly. "Oh, China... I didn't know you were here. How... unexpected."

China tsks and pulls Japan away from him, shooing his hands away. "I think I can take care of him. Have a good night. Come on, Japan."

France watches with mild disappointment as China takes Japan away, scolding him for being so careless around 'dangerous individuals'.

"Will the universe deny me of all romance?" France sighs dramatically feeling just a little bit lonely. Until a beautiful woman who is blessedly alone walks in. Perhaps there is still a chance for romance this night after all. Putting on his most charming smile, France goes on the hunt for l'amour.

~.

Lithuania pours four cups of tea as Ukraine puts some finishing touches on her cookies. She turns to take the plate to the table just as Lithuania turns to take the tray of tea. They both pause and smile sheepishly.

"Excuse me, I'm sorry I-" Lithuania begins.

"N-no, I got in your way first, I'm the one who's sorry." Ukraine says quickly.

They both laugh softly. Lithuania begins to say something else when Poland's voice cuts in from the other room. "Are we ever going to eat or what?"

They smile and shrug. There's a moment of hesitation then Ukraine starts forward and Lithuania follows. Belarus is sitting at the table, looking very irritated. Poland is wandering around the room, looking at things and picking them up at his whim. "About time you two!"

"Ah, so sorry! Here it is. I hope you- Oh!" Ukraine trips and starts to fall forward.

"Katyusha!" Lithuania drops the platter of tea and grabs her waist, barely pulling her back up as teacups shatter. Half the cookies fall from the plate onto the floor as Lithuania hauls her into an upward position. "A-are you alright?"

Ukraine looks at the floor in despair. "Ah! I'm so sorry! If only I wasn't so clumsy!"

Lithuania tightens his grip on her waist for a moment. "No, it's alright! It will only take a few minutes to make more tea. I'm just glad you didn't get hurt."

A soft blush creeps onto Ukraine's cheeks. "Th-thank you..."

"Ugh. Get a room if you're going to expose us to such intense sappiness." Poland rolls his eyes at them.

The two stiffen and separate from one another quickly. "Ah... w-well some of the cookies survived. I'll just put them here. You two can start on those if you'd like. We'll be back with the tea soon. I'm so sorry!"

Ukraine puts the cookies down, smiling weakly at Belarus. "Y-you like these don't you, Natalya?"

Belarus fixes her with a look of disapproval but takes one of the cookies. Ukraine smiles warmly and nods. Poland wanders over and takes one. "You two should definitely hurry up. And, like, I hope you don't expect me to clean any of that up for you, Liet."

Lithuania laughs awkwardly. "N-no, don't worry about it. You're a guest. I'll take care of it in a minute. You two just enjoy the cookies and we'll get the tea."

They disappear back into the kitchen. Poland takes a seat then grabs a few of the cookies and starts to make a house out of them. Belarus ignores him completely. In the kitchen Ukraine grabs new tea cups. "I-I really am sorry, Toris. I swear I'll pay to replace them! And I'll clean your carpet myself!"

Lithuania starts imagining something he really shouldn't be and clears his throat. "D-don't be silly! It really is no big deal. Accidents happen."

"But that's the third time I'm responsible for your tea cups getting broken at least."

There was an awkward pause and then Lithuania laughs. He walks towards her and takes her hand. "Katyusha, I really don't care. I'm happy that you weren't hurt. And while I don't actively encourage you breaking more...If anything I find it sort of c-cute." Face flushing slightly he leans in and kisses her cheek.

Her large blue eyes brighten, so filled with warmth. The most charming shade of pink brushes her cheeks. "Oh, Toris..." She presses her forehead lightly to his and their noses brush once before they pull back, both wearing fond smiles.

The kettle whistles and they part a bit self-consciously. Lithuania turning to fuss with the water as Ukraine turns to grab the cups. At almost the same time they shyly sneak a look at one another then look away, Ukraine giggling.

In the other room Belarus glares stormily into the air, deep in thought. She doesn't notice when Poland takes the cookie with a bite in it from her fingers for what is turning into a cookie palace. That damn America, it seems he is like a curse that can't be broken. Everything she does seems to fail or backfire. Oh and how she hates it when he's being nice to her! And how dare he have that twin that confuses her every single time he's around!

From the other room she hears her sister giggle. And Ukraine! She actively encourages that man'srelationship with big brother! She is a traitor! Well just wait until Vanya finds out about her relationship with Lithuania. No doubt he will not approve at all.

Not that she actually wishes for Ivan to break up her sister's relationship. She supposes Ukraine is better to deal with when she's happy then when she's a crying mess. Besides, it's a relief that the idiot has finally given up on her. How much she cannot stand him! Is he the most dense man on Earth? Continuously pursuing her when it was obvious she had no feelings for him! Could it have been more clear how much she did not want a relationship with him? He is so-

The most awful thought that has ever existed hits her like a bomb. Is she... Oh God please no, is she to Ivan what Lithuania had been to her?

The moment of clarity is like an electric shock that makes every muscle in her body flinch painfully. She opens her mouth as if to scream, a silent, choked sound all that comes out. It is as if she is paralyzed.

Poland glances over at her and starts to poke her cheek repeatedly. "Like, what is wrong with you? Why is that you only make like, really scary or angry faces? You should really consider widening your expression range." He hooks a finger on one side of her mouth and pulls it up into half a smile. He doesn't get a single response from Belarus. "Hm? Hey Liet, you might want to get out here. I think the angry sister is broken or something. You should see her before she recovers."

Poland removes his finger and starts pulling out his cellphone to take a picture as Lithuania and Ukraine hurry into the room. Ukraine looks at her sister in alarm. "Natalya? Natalya, what's the matter?" She strokes her hair and cheek, trying to see what might be wrong. "Natalya!"

Belarus's mind finally recovers from the deep shock and quickly slathers a thick layer of denial over the awful, horrible thought. No, no! Ivan loves her! There is no way he thinks of her like she thinks of Lithuania! Big brother does love her! She repeats this thought until she has calmed herself to only a mild state of horror.

She blinks and looks up at her sister. "Vanya loves me."

Ukraine is relieved to see her acting normally. "Of course he does, dear. Are you alright now?"

Belarus nods slowly. Lithuania reaches over to touch her shoulder. "Do you need any-"

"Don't you touch me! I'm not like you!" Belarus savagely reaches up and grabs his wrist, twisting sharply.

There's a faint snap sound and Lithuania lets out a small cry, falling back into the table. Ukraine gasps loudly, covering her mouth in alarm.

"Liet!" Poland cries, "You totally knocked over my cookie castle!"

Lithuania tries to smile but it comes out more as a grimace, small tears standing in the corners of his eyes. "A-ah...ha... s-sorry, I-I'm fine..."

Ukraine delicately tries to get a look at his wrist. "Oh, Natalya, was that necessary?"

"Very, big sister," Belarus says, quite calm now.

Ukraine fusses while Lithuania tries to insist nothing is wrong. Poland is trying to rebuild his cookie palace, annoyed every time the table gets bumped again by Ukraine's hip. She finally sighs. "I'm sorry dear, I think we should take that to be looked at by a doctor."

Lithuania gives her a pained smile. "It really isn't that-"

Belarus calmly stands and flicks it. Lithuania cries out again and nudges the table. Poland scoffs. "Oh my God, you're like, making this impossible!"

Ukraine frowns sharply at her sister, though it actually comes out looking hurt and reproachful. "Natalya, what was that for?"

"Proving he should go see a doctor. Denying it doesn't make it-" She stops herself abruptly before she gives herself another breakdown. "Just go take him to the doctor already. If it's bad enough maybe you'll have to stick around to help him out. I definitely won't do it."

A small blush comes to both Ukraine and Lithuania's faces. "A-ah, that's... I'm sure it won't be- K-Katyusha, maybe I should see that doctor after all. Uh..."

"Da, da, I will drive you. Um, I am so sorry. We'll have to reschedule. Help yourself to tea and cookies if you like."

Poland looks up from the cookies, which he has finally given up on. "Oh, I want to go! There's something I want to pick up. We can get it on the way, right? Like, that's not a problem is it?"

Ukraine gives him an almost pained smile. "M-maybe on the way back... Natalya, would you like to go then?"

Belarus looks from her sister to Lithuania to Poland. "No."

"Well, alright. I promise we'll be back as soon as possible. Come on, dear." She puts her arm around Lithuania's shoulders and starts to lead him out. Poland follows after spouting a list of things he needs to get, the items rapidly getting more ridiculous. Ukraine pauses at the door onces and nods to her sister. There's a few moments of their chattering and then it goes quiet.

Blessedly alone, Belarus sits in the serenity of her own thoughts. From time to time her hand travels down to lovingly trace over the concealed blade hidden beneath her dress. After a while she stands and goes to make herself a cup of tea. Maybe she'll be nice and pick up the broken glass on the floor later. Not for Lithuania's sake but for her sister's.

She returns to the table with her steaming teacup and sets it down. For a moment she eyes the cookies then decides she doesn't want anything Poland has put his hands all over. After a minute she lifts her cup and blows lightly, taking a sip. Someday she will win over big brother's love. Until then she will have to be patient, as she always has been. She will wait centuries upon centuries for big brother's love.

For a moment she pauses in thought, the teacup poised in mid-air as she tilts her head to the side, eyes almost dreamy. In that quiet moment, though there is none to witness it, Belarus appears as lovely and fragile as a wild flax in bloom.

~.

It is the heat that wakes Germany up. Body heat. Sometimes it still bothers him, mostly in the summer when it's already so warm. Perhaps it is because he comes from a warmer climate but such things never bother Italy. Not much of anything bothers Italy, actually.

Germany sighs and opens his eyes a bit. Italy is nestled near him, expression peaceful if not a bit dopey. A slight smile touches his lips until his eyes wander down and he notices another arm strung around Italy's waist. He frowns and sits up, throwing back the covers. Prussia is on the other side of the bed, face pressed cozily to Italy's back.

"Damn it bruder, get out!"

The yelling startles Italy awake and he sits up in panic mode, looking for his white flag. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, don't hurt me!"

"Not you!" Germany snaps. "Bruder!"

Prussia opens an eye resentfully and turns onto his back, stretching out leisurely like a cat. "Mm? What's your problem, West?"

"You are! What do you think you're doing in my bed? You have your own bed!"

"Sleeping. Yeesh. And your bed is more comfortable. Next time you should maybe take that stick out your ass before you go to bed. You'll wake up in a better mood." Prussia stifles a yawn.

"Why you-!"

Italy throws his hands over his ears. "Please stop fighting!"

"Aw, look what you've done. You've upset him, West. What a bad boyfriend." Prussia sits up and nuzzles Italy's shoulder. "Italy is too cute to yell around, ja?"

Italy tenses, looking rather distressed. Germany leans over and grabs Italy's arm as he pushes at Prussia's head. "Stop harassing him!"

"I am doing no such thing! You're not harassed by me at all, are ya, Italy?" He grins at Italy even as he tries to push Germany's hand away.

"Ve..." Italy tries to determine what he can say that won't lead to him getting yelled at or smacked by anyone. "Can we have breakfast now?"

Germany sighs in frustration and rubs the bridge of his nose. Why is he surrounded by such foolish people? "You are so-" One look at Italy's face defuses the comment. "...Fine. Breakfast."

Germany looks pointedly at Prussia. "We'll talk about this later."

"Ja, ja, breakfast first!" As if their 'conversations' ever straighten him out. "Now get in the kitchen where you belong."

Germany's eyes narrow and he makes a sound of disgust. "Just yell if he starts molesting you."

"I'm sure Italy will keep his hands to himself," Prussia says, laughing obnoxiously as he throws his arm around Italy's shoulders. "No need to worry about me, bruder!"

There is a pause as Germany seriously considers throwing his brother out the window. "...You drive me insane."

"Well lucky for us it hasn't prevented you from cooking breakfast. Remember what good ol' Nietzsche said, 'That which doesn't kill us makes us stronger' and I'm making you pure steel!" Prussia breaks into a full out cackle.

"...Feliciano, come downstairs as quickly as possible. Now would be preferable." Germany turns and leaves the room. Any more and he'll have a minor rage stroke.

Italy slips from Prussia's grasp and grabs his pants from off the floor, slipping them on. He doesn't immediately head for the door, turning to look at the albino stretched out on the bed. "Why do you always do things to bother him?"

"I could ask you the same thing," is the immediate response, an amused smirk curling Prussia's lips.

Italy winces and flushes slightly. "I... I'm not trying to bother him."

"Well, I am. Because mein Ludwig is just so adorable when he's angry. Don't you think so?"

"He... he is not your Ludwig," Italy says, voice wavering with annoyance.

"You can bet he very well is. Ludwig is my little brother and I raised that brat. That makes him mine, too. You don't get full rights just because you're dating him." Prussia sits up, expression still amused but now with a hint of a challenge.

Italy fidgets then straightens himself. Russia defends America from Prussia and makes him back off. He should be able to do the same. "Maybe... you shouldn't act like you own him just because you're his brother. I don't interfere with Lovino."

"Because the two of you have never been as close. The awesome me has a superior brotherly bond!" Prussia points almost accusingly at him.

The words are a blow and Italy takes a step back. No, he can't give up yet! "Y-you're just being selfish."

"Nein!" Prussia snaps suddenly, standing. Italy cowers but doesn't back up. "Nein! Du bist egoistisch! I like you so if you want to be lovey dovey and do all that kinky stuff West is into then I approve. Gott knows he needed to get laid. Don't think you can take him away completely. The hell am I supposed to do then, huh?"

Italy is struck silent as Prussia quickly turns to walk towards the window. "Not that I'd be lonely without him or anything. In fact I love being alone, it's the best thing ever! I'm just saying, don't get a big head. West won't find that very attractive."

Italy looks at Prussia's back, so very stiff with pride, then slowly walks over to his side. He slips a hand in Prussia's and holds it gently. "Ve, I...I like it when you spend time with us, too. Just... stop trying to kiss him and things. That's my job. Now let's go have breakfast!"

Prussia glances at Italy's hand then smirks, giving it a slight squeeze. "Ja! If West knows what's good for him it will be done by now."

The two give each other thoughtful looks then smile at one another. There's enough room for both of them. With that determined they go to bombard the kitchen. Prussia snorts in disgust. "How are you not done yet?"

Germany glares up from the potatoes he's cutting up. "It's only been a few minutes! What are you even thinking? Sit down and shut up!"

Prussia snickers. "There you are, being all forceful and manly in your pretty pink apron."

"I am not wearing a pretty pink apron! If you want food you will stop talking immediately!" Germany turns back, chopping at the potatoes furiously now.

Italy goes over to Ludwig's side, touching his arm gently. Germany grunts with annoyance. "Ja?"

"Is there anything I can help with?" He smiles up at him sweetly, if not a little nervously.

Germany becomes more flustered than angry. "...Ja, if you want to then you can start heating up the sausage."

"That's what she said!" Prussia plops into a chair and laughs over his own infinite cleverness.

Germany grits his teeth and tries to ignore him. Italy tugs lightly on his sleeve again and he turns to see what he wants. Italy raises up on his toes, wishing once more that he was just a little bit taller. Germany flushes and clears his throat softly before leaning in to kiss Italy. Italy kisses him back, beaming at him as he pulls away.

Italy gives him a small salute. "I'll get started on that sausage, sir!" He pauses then lightly leans up to kiss Germany's jaw. "We can work on the other sausage later."

As Italy cheerfully bounces off to get the sausage, Prussia begins to roar with laughter while Germany's ears turn pink with embarrassment.

* * *

**Translation**:

petit feuille d'érable – little maple leaf

Nein! Du bist egoistisch! – No! You are selfish! (fixed)

**Extra Notes**:

The song in this chapter is Linda Linda by The Blue Hearts. It's a popular song to karaoke to in Japan. If you're familiar with it then it might seem coarse for Japan's soft voice but I chose it in amusement over the fact that Hiroki Takahashi (voice acting god) has done such roles as Squalo from Hitman Reborn where his voice is in fact much more gruff.

Lyric translation (gotten from various sources so this is just the general gist and not necessarily exactly what it says): "Linda Linda (repeated)! If I see you and (we) have a talk Please catch the meaning of love. Even though it may not be love, Even though it may not be affection, I can't let you go. I'll get power (or '"never give up" is my power'), the only power nothing can beat!"  
P.S. I can't tell you how tempted I was to make him sing 'Chichi Chichi Oppai' (look it up, it's from another of Takahashi's roles and you very well might die of the lulz)

Friedrich Nietzsche – German philosopher from the Prussian Province of Saxony. Eventually he annulled his Prussian citizenship and remained under the status of 'stateless' for the rest of his life. Very interesting guy.

**AN: **I'm not quite sure if that's what people expected of this chapter but I'm pleased enough with it. Also, omg you guys... only one chapter left! I can't even believe it... aaah my baby is almost done! I was thinking about it and if you feel like telling me (or if you even have one) what was your favorite chapter or scene from the story overall? I'm just curious~ Thanks and I'll probably update this again soon!


	50. Chapter 50

Hello gentle readers~ The hell that was my Spring Term finals has ended and I am free for summer break! So I should be updating things much more frequently now.

Here we have the final chapter, which I kind of think of as a sappy bow to tie up what was an amazingly fun story to work on. Once again I want to thank everyone who took an interest in this. I am so grateful and touched by all of the support I received. Thank you to all of my readers, those who reviewed (in such huge quantities which still blows me away), those who drew fanart (even if you didn't tell me about it haha), people who gave me useful critiques (and even the out of control ones gave me something to talk about), for the help with languages/history/facts, for recommending this story, and just about anything else I can't remember. You've been very kind to me. If you are my regular readers, I shall see you in my other stories. If not, thanks for keeping up with this ridiculous story to the end!

* * *

Early on in their relationship, Alfred offered Ivan a spare key to his house and he had refused it, telling the other he knows how to find a way inside whether the door is locked or not. Arriving an entire day earlier than intended and wanting to surprise Alfred, he does just that. Unfortunately the door is already unlocked which means the other man won't be quite as baffled on how he made it inside. Sometimes he thinks the American is just trying to ruin all of his fun.

Quietly closing the door behind him, Ivan walks further inside, setting his bag down. He keeps the small bouquet of sunflowers that he picked up on the way over with him. Now all he must do is find his darling.

A quick scan of the kitchen and his bedroom proves fruitless, as does his study and any number of other rooms. He finally notices that the bathroom door is slightly ajar, the light switched on, and enters without knocking.

America is sitting in the bathtub wearing goggles, tropical print swim trunks, yellow flippers, and has a green snorkel fit snuggly in his mouth. His arms are crossed tightly over his chest and his expression is frankly impossible to read with everything that is on his face. The tub is so full that water sloshes onto the floor—which is already soaking wet—every time he shifts.

Without even blinking Russia crouches down beside the tub, smiling at the other. "Alfred?"

America slowly turns his attention to the other man, blinking slowly behind the fogged plastic of the goggle lenses. He reaches up and removes the snorkel from his mouth. "Hm?"

"What are you doing?" The question is one of general curiosity rather than confusion or concern.

When America answers it is a bit dreamily, as if he's not quite all there. "Oh. I was just thinking about what can be done about the rapidly decreasing middle class which is leaving a dangerous gap between the upper and lower class."

"That does not sound very fun. Have you come up with any solutions?"

"Not really. Well, I did think of one but it involves dinosaurs so I don't think people will go for it. It would work though."

"A shame. I brought something for you." Russia lifts the sunflowers so American can see them.

For a moment America stares at them then lifts his goggles, letting them rest on the top of his head. He takes the bouquet and brings it into the tub with him, half submerging the plastic covered flowers. "An offering from the sunflower devil. Not bad."

"I am glad you like them." Careful not to lean against the wet side of the bathtub, Russia kisses America's cheek.

America rapidly blinks and seems to finally be more aware of his surroundings. "What are you doing here so early? I thought your flight was coming in tomorrow."

"It was. I managed to get an earlier one at the last minute. I am so happy to see you." He strokes America's damp hair.

"Oh! Great! We should do something special tomorrow then. I say roller coasters!" America beams at him.

"I think perhaps something with less screaming would be preferable." Russia says pleasantly.

America rolls his eyes. "But it's fun! Must be hard for someone so not fun to understand, clearly."

Early on the words might have provoked Russia. He's since learned that this is America's favorite way to make people do what he wants and it has almost never failed to work on England. Instead he offers something a little more acceptable, the idea somewhat inspired by the other man's attire. "Let us go to the Aquarium instead."

America shifts onto his knees, brightening again. "Yeah! That sounds cool. Let's do it."

Pleased, Russia stands, tilting his head as he looks down at America. "Would you like to go to the store with me? I checked your fridge while I was in the kitchen and it is lacking in anything worth eating. You always let the edible foods dwindle when I am away."

"Your standards of what is edible are way too high," America says, waving his hand dismissively. "But alright, I'll go. If nothing else to make sure you don't bring home nothing but celery or something. Let me just dry off and change."

"Very well, I shall attend to your flowers then." He takes the bouquet back, gently shaking it to get some of the excess droplets of water off.

"Right, just be a few minutes." America tugs the goggles off his head, putting them aside. Russia leaves the room as he is pulling off one of the flippers.

Humming to himself, Russia finds a vase to put the sunflowers in, adding fresh water. He arranges them a bit then giggles softly as he touches one of the petals. "And he thinks I am weird."

~.

Russia examines an onion then deems it acceptable, placing it into the small basket that hangs from his arm. He has all he needs for dinner now. His eyes begin to scan the area for America, who has wandered off. There is a spark of curiosity when he finally spots the younger blond looking intently at what appears to be a large squash. And here he didn't think Alfred liked anything healthy. Maybe he's finally being a good influence on the other man's diet.

Adjusting his basket, Russia walks over to America. "Were you interested in that, lapushka?"

America turns, a huge smile of amusement on his face. "Check it out, Vanya, it's your penis!"

Russia frowns as America laughs away, highly unamused by the comment. A woman standing nearby departs as quickly as possible after making a disgusted noise. He leans in very close, catching America in a stern gaze. "Please do not say such hurtful things, or next time I will use one on you for comparison, da?"

A spark of concern alights in America's eyes and he hastily sets it down. "Hah! You know I was just joking! Yours is a wonderful size!"

Russia gives him an unnerving look for a few moments more then smiles again. "If that is all, we are ready to go."

America follows behind him, muttering about how he has no sense of humor. By the time they're on the street his mood has already improved and he chatters on enthusiastically about the latest movies coming out that he wants to see. At the very least he's courteous enough to carry the groceries, not seeming to even notice their weight as he precariously swings them at his sides.

~.

Dinner is not exactly candle-lit with wine, though it is quite good. For some reason Alfred has some opposition to anything resembling the former type of dinners. He claims it is because he gets horrible flashbacks of being chained to a chair and being fed what was most likely horse meat disguised as steak. Ivan tells him that's ridiculous. Where on earth would he have found a horse to cook up on such short notice? For some reason that does not seem to help.

Deep down, America is secretly acquiring a taste for Russian food (though American will always be the best forever). Russia not so secretly finds he can stomach American food but really does not prefer it as a general rule. (Though he will never live down the incident America caught him actually enjoying a fast food burger).

After they've finished eating Russia gazes fondly at America. The other raises an eyebrow. "Do I have something on my face?"

"Nothing other than what is usually there. I brought you something else. I was going to wait a little while to give it to you but I think now is as perfect as any other time. I will be right back." Russia walks off to the other room.

America waits a bit impatiently. Gifts from Russia are always a little hit and miss. Hit being something like that sweet Russian hat he'd brought him, miss being along the lines of extra 'breakfast kiss mints', and expected being sunflowers. Still, he always gets a little excited when Ivan bothers to get him anything. Especially because America loves getting presents for any reason at all.

A minute later Russia returns, his fist closed around something. It must be small. America tries not to stare at it with too much interest and fails spectacularly. "What is it?"

"Close your eyes!" Russia says cheerfully.

"...You aren't going to molest me, are you?"

"Not today. Just close your eyes." A bit grudgingly America does. Russia walks over to America and opens his hand. A small hair clip with a bright red, metallic rose rests in his palm. With delicate care he brushes back a strand of America's hair and securely clips it in. He had practiced on his own hair to make sure he could do it properly. "Alright, I am done."

America blinks at him as he reaches up and touches the clip. "What is this?"

"Go look," Russia says cheerfully.

Not sure if he should be amused or touched yet, America gets up and walks to the mirror in the other room, Russia following behind him. America examines the hair clip in the mirror, reaching up to touch it again. "Uh..."

Russia beams at him. "When I saw it I thought it was perfect. After all, the rose signifies much for you, da? And I thought it would be nice if we matched." He reaches up and caresses the sunflower pin on his scarf. "Do you like it?"

America tilts his head in mirror looking far less than certain. "It's kind of gay."

"So are you."

"...Fair enough. I dunno, I mean it's a nice thought and all, but..."

Russia is prepared for this. "I thought a hero would be more than happy to wear a token given to him by the one he loves."

Well when he puts it like that. America puts on a charming smile, head lifting proudly. "I suppose a hero would indeed do this. I will cherish it."

America leans over and kisses Ivan's jaw. "Totally not wearing it in public, though."

Russia giggles and turns to kiss his cheek. "We shall see about that."

They both smile at each other knowing that, while it is not a big deal for now, this will definitely become a significant argument in the near future. They will both be more than prepared for it when it comes.

~.

Dressed in his pajamas, America comes out into the living room while brushing his teeth. He leans against the door frame, watching Russia as he reads on the couch. He sucks on his tooth brush and speaks, the words slightly muffled by the froth of toothpaste. "You're still reading?"

"Mm?" Russia doesn't even look up.

Rolling his eyes, America walks closer until he is all but leaning over him. "Are you going to keep doing that or are you coming to bed?"

Russia looks up from his copy of _Eugene Onegin. _"I will come to bed when I am ready. Please do not get toothpaste on my book."

Narrowing his eyes, America straightens up and leaves the room. There is the soft sound of sink water running and America tromping around. Then there is almost fifteen minutes of blissful peace and silence. Just as Ivan is truly starting to melt into the words the introduction of music pulls him back out. At first he tries to ignore it until it is turned up to what must be almost full blast.

Marking his page with annoyance, Russia gets up to turn it down. When Alfred is pouting he can be so- And suddenly America enters the room. Rather than saying anything he starts to dance towards Ivan, lip syncing along with the words to the song. The taller man tries very hard to keep a look of disapproval on his face but it melts into a smile as Alfred takes his hands and pulls him further into the living room. He brings their bodies together, clumsily imitating a very lazy mixture between a waltz and a tango.

Ivan relaxes, laughing as he allows Alfred to lead the strange dance, now singing slightly off tune to the words. The two make their way around the room a few times before Ivan pulls Alfred close, rocking with him. Alfred hugs Ivan tightly, face tucked against the crook of his neck.

As the music plays on Ivan presses his lips to Alfred's hair and closes his eyes. That feeling that had plagued him before, that feeling that he might stop and not be able to start again, has faded completely. The aching gap in his heart has eased, replaced with a warmth that can perhaps melt even the coldest winter.

As for Alfred, he no longer daydreams about happy endings. After all, who could want such happiness to end?

~ End

* * *

**Notes**:

_Eugene Onegin_ is written by a famous Russian author from the Romantic Era, Alexander Pushkin. He's kind of a big deal. (And I was heavily scolded for not knowing who he was by a certain someone)

They were totally dancing to Can't Take My Eyes off You – Frankie Valli and The 4 Seasons

**All the best~ **


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